Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

My own curiosity and interest are insatiable.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore, send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Still ours the dance, the feast, the glorious Psalm, The mystic lights of emblem, and the Word.

I am never going to write for the sake of writing.

The Jewish problem is as old as history, and assumes in each age a new form. The life or death of millions of human beings hangs upon its solution; its agitation revives the fiercest passions for good and for evil that inflame the human breast.

Jews are the intensive form of any nationality whose language and customs they adopt.