On Sorrow Floats Laughter.

I Wept When The Muse Ulla Bent Over Me. Blinded By Tears I Could Not Prevent Her From Kissing Me, I Could Not Prevent The Muse From Giving Me That Terrible Kiss. All Of You Who Have Ever Been Kissed By The Muse Will Surely Understand That Oskar, Once Branded By That Kiss, Was Condemned To Take Back The Drum He Had Rejected Years Before, The Drum He Had Buried In The Sand Of Sapse Cemetery.

I Belonged To The Generation That Grew Up Under National Socialism, And Was Blinded And Led Astray - And Allowed Itself To Be Led Astray.

What Makes Books - And With Them Writers - So Dangerous That Church And State, Politburos And The Mass Media Feel The Need To Oppose Them?

Granted: I Am An Inmate Of A Mental Hospital; My Keeper Is Watching Me, He Never Lets Me Out Of His Sight; There's A Peep-hole In The Door, And My Keeper's Eye Is The Shade Of Brown That Can Never See Through A Blue-eyed Type Like Me.

In Statistics, What Disappears Behind Rows Of Numbers Is Death.