I feel like clasping my hands together and saying: Children, I am so happy and grateful, life is so beautiful and meaningful. Yes, beautiful and meaningful, even though I stand by the bed of my dead friend, who died too soon, and even though I may be deported to unknown places at any moment. My God, I am so grateful for everything.
(Etty Hillesum /1914–1943/, diary entry from the Westerbork internment camp, September 16, 1942)