GUNTER BLOBEL

I was 8 years old in the spring of 1945 when my family fled Silesia to escape the Russian army. On our way, we passed through Dresden. A few days later, it was firebombed. The fire was so bright that night that one could read a newspaper from the light, though we were many kilometers away.

After the near-total destruction of Dresden in the Allied fire-bombing of February 1945, few people believed that its beauty would ever return. Dresden's slow but steady comeback was thus met with great relief.

The tremendous acquisition of basic knowledge will allow a much more rational treatment of cancer, viral infections, degenerative diseases and, most importantly, mental diseases.

Although I completed two years of internship in various small hospitals, I decided against continuing my medical training. I was much more fascinated by the unsolved problems of medicine than by practicing it.

As long as we do not know how the cell works, we don't know the kind of havoc the AIDS virus creates in the cell.

The structure of many cellular macromolecules has been revealed at the atomic level using x-ray crystallography.

A great deal has been learned about cell communication. The universal nature of cellular structure and organization in bacteria, plant and animal cells has been discovered.

In basic research, the use of the electron microscope has revealed to us the complex universe of the cell, the basic unit of life.

In the United States, the wealthy have a tradition of charity. But in Germany, the rich say, 'We pay taxes. It's enough.'

It was one of the great pleasures of my life to donate the entire sum of the Nobel Prize, in memory of my sister Ruth Blobel, to the restoration of Dresden.

As long as we do not know how the cell works, we don't know the kind of havoc the AIDS virus creates in the cell.

As soon as I heard there were people in Germany who wanted to restore the old part of Dresden, I wanted to help. Even before the Nobel, I had started this group, the Friends of Dresden. The destruction of Dresden made a big impression on me when I was a child, and I wanted to do this.

Driving through Dresden, I still remember the many palaces, happily decorated with cherubs and other symbols of the baroque era. The city made an indelible impression on me.

The structure of many cellular macromolecules has been revealed at the atomic level using x-ray crystallography.

In basic research, the use of the electron microscope has revealed to us the complex universe of the cell, the basic unit of life.

In the cold and snow-rich Silesian winters, there were hour-long rides on Sundays in horse-drawn sleighs to my maternal grandparent's farm to have lunch and to spend the afternoon. The house was a magnificent 18th-century manor house in the nearby Altgabel with a great hall that was decorated with hunting trophies.

It was one of the great pleasures of my life to donate the entire sum of the Nobel Prize, in memory of my sister Ruth Blobel, to the restoration of Dresden.

In 1936, when I was born in the small Silesian village of Waltersdorf in the county of Sprottau in the then-eastern part of Germany, now part of Poland, the fine structure of the cell was still an enigma.

The tremendous acquisition of basic knowledge will allow a much more rational treatment of cancer, viral infections, degenerative diseases and, most importantly, mental diseases.

In the United States, the wealthy have a tradition of charity. But in Germany, the rich say, 'We pay taxes. It's enough.'

I'm always telling my students that if they can't explain what they are doing, to their grandmothers, then they probably don't understand it themselves.

After the near-total destruction of Dresden in the Allied fire-bombing of February 1945, few people believed that its beauty would ever return. Dresden's slow but steady comeback was thus met with great relief.

A great deal has been learned about cell communication. The universal nature of cellular structure and organization in bacteria, plant and animal cells has been discovered.

I was 8 years old in the spring of 1945 when my family fled Silesia to escape the Russian army. On our way, we passed through Dresden. A few days later, it was firebombed. The fire was so bright that night that one could read a newspaper from the light, though we were many kilometers away.

Although I completed two years of internship in various small hospitals, I decided against continuing my medical training. I was much more fascinated by the unsolved problems of medicine than by practicing it.