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Furthermore, they were constantly informed by all the camp authorities that they had been abandoned by the world: they were beggars and lucky to receive the daily soup of starvation.

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread.

They went into stores to get food to stay alive. Looting isn't the right word. I call it survival.

The hardship of living in a refugee camp made me psychologically strong.

All travellers who had preceded me into the Barren Grounds had relied on the abundant game, and in consequence suffered dreadful hardships; in some cases even starved to death.

When I was in Paris, all of the German refugees began to flow in and it was a very sad time.

For a country boy, poor as I was, whose constant worry was to be able to have enough to eat, the Army guaranteed one's survival.

It was very liberating, living in a foreign country, a place where everything was new and strange - the food, the customs, the climate, everything.

What I discovered in Auschwitz is the human condition, the end point of a great adventure, where the European traveler arrived after his two-thousand-year-old moral and cultural history.