Unending was the stream, unending the misery, unending the sorrow.

My friends, who sleep for all eternity; we do not forget you.

We are known as one of the few truly antifascist families in Munich.

There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.

In books too, as well as in music, she courted the misery which a contrast between the past and present was certain of giving.

We too are ashes as we watch and hear The psalm, the sorrow, and the simple praise, Of one whose promised thoughts of other days, Were such as ours, but now wholly destroyed, The service record of his youth wiped out, His dream dispersed by shot, must disappear.