It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past.

The Jew has his anchorage not in place but in time, in his highly developed sense of history as personal context. Six thousand years of self-awareness are a homeland.

If, in the Judaic perception, the language of the Adamic was that of love, the grammars of fallen man are those of the legal code.

The whispers of shared ecstasy are choral.

Books are in no hurry. An act of creation is in no hurry; it reads us, it privileges us infinitely.

More and more lower-middle-income families either live their lives in debt or leave the city altogether. The boom is strictly at the penthouse level.

My writing of fiction comes under a very general heading of those teachers, critics, scholars who like to try their own hand once or twice in their lives.