. . . they watched the humans disappear. They watched them dissolve, like moving tablets in the humid air.
I risked my life to save lives. I'm not looking for glory. I just want people to know the truth about what happened.
There can be no beauty if it is paid for by human injustice, nor truth that passes over injustice in silence, nor moral virtue that condones it.
Real hunger is when one man regards another man as something to eat.
The world is ruled by neither justice nor morality; crime is not punished nor virtue rewarded, one is forgotten as quickly as the other. The world is ruled by power and power is obtained with money. To work is senseless, because money cannot be obtained through work, but through exploitation of others. And if we cannot exploit as much as we wish, at least let us work as little as we can. Moral duty? We believe neither in the morality of man nor in the morality of systems. [p. 168]
Why is it that nobody cries out, nobody spits in their faces, nobody jumps at their throats? We doff our caps to the S. S. men returning from the little wood; if our name is called out we obediently go with them to die, and we do nothing. We starve, we are drenched by rain, we are torn from our families. What is this mystery? This strange power of one man over another? This insane passivity that cannot be overcome? Our only strength is our great number; the gas chambers cannot accommodate all of us.
I smile and I think that one human being must always be discovering another - through love. And that this is the most important thing on earth, and the most lasting.
I am not able of hating. I am not able of hating.
Poverty is considered quaint in the rural areas because it comes thatched.
I've never used performance-enhancing drugs of any kind, and I never will. I've never met or spoken with Tony Bosch or used any substances provided by him. Anything said to the contrary is a lie.
A Lucky Child is an extraordinary story, simply and beautifully told. Heartbreaking and thrilling, it examines what it means to be human, in every good and awful sense. Perhaps most amazingly of all, Thomas Buergenthal remembers and renders the small mysteries and grand passions of childhood, even a childhood lived under the most horrific circumstances.