The Living Are More Demanding;

It Is This Refrain That We Hear Repeated By Everyone: You Are Not At Home, This Is Not A Sanatorium, The Only Exit Is By Way Of The Chimney. (what Did It Mean? Soon We Were All To Learn What It Meant.)

Even In This Place One Can Survive, And Therefore One Must Want To Survive, To Tell The Story, To Bear Witness; And That To Survive We Must Force Ourselves To Save At Least The Skeleton, The Scaffolding, The Form Of Civilization. We Are Slaves, Deprived Of Every Right, Exposed To Every Insult, Condemned To Certain Death, But We Still Possess One Power, And We Must Defend It With All Our Strength For It Is The Last — The Power To Refuse Our Consent.

Our Ignorance Allowed Us To Live, As You Are In The Mountains, And Your Rope Is Frayed And About To Break, But You Don't Know It And Feel Safe.

Today I Think That If For No Other Reason Than That An Auschwitz Existed, No One In Our Age Should Speak Of Providence.

He Was A Physicist, More Precisely An Astrophysicist, Diligent And Eager But Without Illusions: The Truth Lay Beyond, Inaccessible To Our Telescopes, Accessible To The Initiates. This Was A Long Road Which He Was Traveling With Effort, Wonderment, And Profound Joy. Physics Was Prose: Elegant Gymnastics For The Mind, Mirror Of Creation, The Key To Man's Dominion Over The Planet; But What Is The Stature Of Creation, Of Man And The Planet? His Road Was Long And He Had Barely Started Up It, But I Was His Disciple: Did I Want To Follow Him?