A Wonderful Story Collection Set Between One

The More Images I Gathered From The Past, I Said, The More Unlikely It Seemed To Me That The Past Had Actually Happened In This Or That Way, For Nothing About It Could Be Called Normal: Most Of It Was Absurd, And If Not Absurd, Then Appalling.

I Feel More And More As If Time Did Not Exist At All... Only Various Spaces Interlocking According To The Rules Of A Higher Form Of Stereometry[the Geometric Measurement Of Solid Bodies], Between Which The Living And The Dead Can Move Back And Forth As They Like, And The Longer I Think About It The More It Seems To Me That We Who Are Still Alive Are Unreal In The Eyes Of The Dead.

How Happily, Said Austerlitz, Have I Sat Over A Book In The Deepening Twilight Until I Could No Longer Make Out The Words And My Mind Began To Wander, And How Secure Have I Felt Seated At The Desk In My House In The Dark Night, Just Watching The Tip Of My Pencil In The Lamplight Following Its Shadow, As If Of Its Own Accord And With Perfect Fidelity, While That Shadow Moved Regularly From Left To Right, Line By Line, Over The Ruled Paper.

No One Can Explain Exactly What Happens Within Us When The Doors Behind Which Our Childhood Terrors Lurk Are Flung Open.

As Far As I Know, The Question Of Whether And How It Could Be Strategically Or Morally Justified Was Never The Subject Of Open Debate In Germany After 1945, No Doubt Mainly Because A Nation Which Had Murdered And Worked To Death Millions Of People In Its Camps Could Hardly Call On The Victorious Powers To Explain The Military And Political Logic That Dictated The Destruction Of The German Cities.