Quotes from Eva Mozes Kor

Getting even has never healed a single person.

At Auschwitz dying was so easy. Surviving was a full time job.

Every night I had nightmares. I dreamed of rats the size of cats, dead bodies, and needles stuck into me. After we found out that the Nazi's had made soup out of Jewish fat, I dreamed that soap bars spoke to me in the voices of my parents and sisters, asking me, "Why are you washing with us?

forgiveness is not so much for the perpetrator, but for the victim.

So I am saying to you, whoever is reading this book, to remember: never ever give up. You can survive and make your dreams come true.

Until that moment I had stopped thinking about my family. Maybe it was due to the bread we ate each evening that supposedly contained not only sawdust but a powder called bromide that made us forget memories of home, a sedative of some kind. Whatever it was or was not, I could not feel sorry for myself, for Miriam, for anyone. I could not think of myself as a victim, or I knew I would perish. It was simple. For me, there was no room for any thought except survival.

Anger and hate are seeds that germinate war. Forgiveness is a seed for peace. It is the ultimate act of self-healing.

Because we were twins, we clung to each other. Because we were sisters, we depended on each other. Because we were family, we did not let go.

He was covered with whip marks, oozing blood. They had burned his fingernails and toenails with the flame of candles. It took him many days to recover.

La ira y el odio son semillas que hacen germinar guerra.

Los granos se nos enterraron en la piel de las rodillas, pero eso no fue lo que más nos lastimó.

But here the stink was over-powering. It was as if you walked through it, around in it. It was everywhere and inescapable. I did not find out right away what the smell really was.

It is not so easy to move on when your sleep is full of nightmarish memories.

In the darkness I heard a whistle, a car, or motorcycle going by. Noises of marching, moaning, vomiting, barking and crying punctuated the hush of camp - an orchestra accompanying the pervasive human misery.