Writing Poetry After Auschwitz Is Barbaric.

Happiness Is Obsolete: Uneconomic.

For A Man Who No Longer Has A Homeland, Writing Becomes A Place To Live.

The Hardest Hit, As Everywhere, Are Those Who Have No Choice.

Truth Is Inseperable From The Illusory Belief That From The Figures Of The Unreal One Day, In Spite Of All, Real Deliverance Will Come.

Work While You Work, Play While You Play - This Is A Basic Rule Of Repressive Self-discipline.