If the Book of the Law could be forgotten for so many years, who knows what was done to it during those years? Maybe it was lost later, too. And another one replaced it, and that one is no longer the original text. These are questions that perturb me much more than whether it's history or not history.

Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.

Next to him lay his violin, trampled, an eerily poignant little corpse.

The philosophers are wrong: it is not words that kill, it is silence.

All collective judgments are wrong. Only racists make them. No human race is superior; no religious faith is inferior.

I was the accuser, God the accused. My eyes were open and I was alone - terribly alone in a world without God and without (hu)man(ity).

I rarely speak about God. To God yes. I protest against Him. I shout at Him. But open discourse about the qualities of God, about the problems that God imposes, theodicy, no. And yet He is there, in silence, in filigree.