Auschwitz begins wherever someone looks at a slaughterhouse and thinks: they’re only animals.
Love is the power to see similarity in the dissimilar.
Life has become the ideology of its own absence.
There is no love that is not an echo.
The almost insoluble task is to let neither the power of others, nor our own powerlessness, stupefy us.
The inadequacy of the purely purpose-oriented form is revealed for what it is-a monotonous, impoverished boring practicality.