I tasted the bread and wine of equality.

I'm one of the millions of immigrant children, children of loneliness, wandering between worlds that are at once too old and too new to live in.

As one of the dumb, voiceless ones I speak. One of the millions of immigrants beating, beating out their hearts at your gates for a breath of understanding.

Like all people who have nothing, I lived on dreams.

Poverty was an ornament on a learned man like a red ribbon on a white horse.

Though my father was poor and had nothing, the Torah, the poetry of prophets, was his daily bread.

The only compensation for the artist is the chance to feed hungry hearts.