— Hey, summon the executioner!
— Wait, knyaz! The executioner is no help here. No axe can cut out what a pen has written about!
— Can`t it? My executioner is a virtuoso...
You've been nothing but a disappointment to me since the moment I ran over you.
— You are too precious for words. Why, I could just eat you alive.
— Oh, no, Margaret. Too young.
I left the stage because I thought I had to shit, but then I lost the feeling.
Dr. Goebbels had a dream of producing the pageant annually in Warsaw after the war, of letting the ruins of the ghetto stand forever as a setting for it.
'There would be Jews in the pageant?' I asked him.
'Certainly' he said, 'thousands of them.'
'May I ask, sir,' I said, 'where you expect to find any Jews after the war?'
Characteristic of fire storms: seeming pieces of charred firewood two or three feet long ridiculously small human beings, or jumbo fried grasshoppers, if you will.