"Then the march began. The two adults were no longer alive. Their tongues hung swollen,
blue-tinged. But the third rope was still moving; being so light, the child was still alive…
For more than half an hour he stayed there, struggling between life and death, dying in slow
agony under our eyes. And we had to look him full in the face. He was still alive when I
passed in front of him. His tongue was still red, his eyes were not yet glazed.
Behind me, I heard the same man asking: “Where is God now?”
And I heard a voice within me answer him:
“Where is He? Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows. ..”
That night the soup tasted of corpses."
blue-tinged. But the third rope was still moving; being so light, the child was still alive…
For more than half an hour he stayed there, struggling between life and death, dying in slow
agony under our eyes. And we had to look him full in the face. He was still alive when I
passed in front of him. His tongue was still red, his eyes were not yet glazed.
Behind me, I heard the same man asking: “Where is God now?”
And I heard a voice within me answer him:
“Where is He? Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows. ..”
That night the soup tasted of corpses."
— Elie Wiesel , in Night
