For me, every hour is grace.

Certain things, certain events, seem inexplicable only for a time: up to the moment when the veil is torn aside.

In those dark times, one rose to the very heights of humanity by simply remaining human.

Acutely aware of the poverty of my means, language became obstacle. At every page I thought, 'That's not it.' So I began again with other verbs and other images. No, that wasn't it either. But what exactly was that it I was searching for? It must have been all that eludes us, hidden behind a veil so as not to be stolen, usurped and trivialized. Words seemed weak and pale.

My faith is a wounded faith, but it's not without faith. My life is not without faith.

I do not believe in collective guilt.

In my town we studied the five Books of Moses, but rarely the prophets. We studied the Talmud so much that I sometimes knew the prophets because of the prophetic quotations in the Talmud. We almost never studied the prophets themselves.