This sight was terrible, more terrible than words convey, for words are cowards as men are, and hide things as men do.

These bloody people. I can't bear that man. I mean, he's so awful, he really is.

When I consider the dead and their families, I cannot repress my mental agony.

I am shocked by this wicked crime.

I am too horrified for words at this monstrous horrible sentence against this poor martyr Dreyfus. If only all Europe would express its horror and indignation! I trust there will be a severe retribution.

I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.

A cry of horror against the inhuman brutality of this act of tyranny.

I now feel it impossible to realize the full extent of the misery which I endured.

I cannot describe the surge of dreadful, unholy joy which I felt.

Perhaps I should not hope to convey in mere words the unutterable hideousness that can dwell in absolute silence and barren immensity.

The horror! The horror!

... you think this is too horrible to have really happened, this is too awful to be the truth! But, please. It's still hard for me to have a clear mind thinking on it. But it's the truth even if it didn't happen.

The carnage was unbelievable.

I was afraid and did not know what I feared, which is the worst kind of fear.