Words are heavy...the words were stapled to her.

When life robs you, sometimes you have to rob it back.

You hide a Jew. You pay. Somehow or other, you must.

Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn't hesitate to wring him out. It smiled and squeezed and let him live. What great malice there could be in allowing something to live.

He had what he called just a small ration of tools:A painted book.A handful of pencils.A mindful of thoughts.Like a simple puzzle, he put them together.

Because the world does not deserve them.