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This morning I was in the children’s nursery. Women who work leave their children from 7 to 6. There are 150 children between the ages of three months and two years, [one…
Any public Jewish institution that is inextricably tied to the greater Jewish community can only express its deep sorrow as it looks back over the past year. Hundreds of thousands of our brethren, the…
I entitled this volume Em Habanim Semeḥah [Psalms 113:9], based on the Jerusalem tractate of Berakhot (toward the close of the second chapter) which portrays Erets Yisrael as the mother of Israel and…
The mass mind is eminently retentive. Man, in Nietzsche’s definition, is the being with the longest memory, and José Ortega y Gasset has recently affirmed (in his Toward a Philosophy of History) the…
We know that a writer has no power except in the pen. Nevertheless there are times when it behooves us to alter the ordinary manner of expression. There are times when the author, too, must depart…
The journal is my life, my companion and my confidant. Without it I would be lost. In it I pour out all my heart’s feelings, until I feel somewhat relieved. When I am angry and…
An elegy to the Jews deported from the Warsaw ghetto from a Jew hiding on the “Aryan” side of the city.
I am in hiding in a loft over a stable, in a village, with good people. The risk of death hovers over me, as it does over all Jews these days, and the slightest lapse of vigilance on my…
Imagine now a man who is deprived of everyone he loves, and at the same time of his house, his habits, his clothes, in short, of everything he possesses: he will be a hollow man, reduced to suffering…
Today is Wednesday, February 17, 1943. Exactly twelve weeks have passed since we went into hiding here at Felek’s. Twelve weeks are eighty-four days and, if my arithmetic is correct, 2016 hours. That…