God gave a law ... called justice. But they have made a law for themselves that is terrible and intricate, and they cannot escape it, for the evil will and the good will are caught alike in its meshes, and it is darkness to the eyes that see and a stumbling block to the feet that run. This law is called necessity.

[Keeping kosher was] the symbol of an initiation, like the insignia of a secret brotherhood, that set her apart and gave her freedom and dignity. Every law whose yoke she accepted willingly seemed to add to her freedom: she herself had chosen . . . To enter that brotherhood. Her Judaism was no longer a stigma, a meaningless accident of birth from which she could escape . . . It had become a distinction, the essence of her self-hood, what she was, what she wanted to be, not merely what she happened to be.

My heart went out, seeking the God of my people. In thousands of homes those white candles burned tonight. I joined an invisible congregation.

Freedom is dearer than bread or joy.

God gave a law ... called justice. But they have made a law for themselves that is terrible and intricate, and they cannot escape it, for the evil will and the good will are caught alike in its meshes, and it is darkness to the eyes that see and a stumbling block to the feet that run. This law is called necessity.