I think that to a very great extent we are partners with the divine in this enterprise called history. That is an ongoing relationship, and there is absolutely no guarantee that things will automatica...
There are times when those who fear God make themselves very unpleasant as human beings.
Seeds must be sown everywhere. Only some will bear fruit. But there would not be the fruit from the few had the many not been sown
Rabbinic literature can be studied in two different ways, in two directions, one might say. It can be studied quantitatively or qualitatively - or, as my father once put it, horizontally or vertically...
Now I stand on the knoll before the grave of Jacob Kahn, the cypress tall against the blue morning sky and the wind warm on my face. It is the only sense left me, I hear him say. There are colors in t...
How memory accordions time and places disparate moments next to one another like photographic slides on a tray!
...a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, that is something.
They become angry and ugly and they fight anything that's a threat to them. We have to learn how to fight back without hurting them too much.
Reuven, I did not want my Daniel to become like my brother, may he rest in peace. Better I should have had no son at all than to have a brilliant son who had no soul. I looked at my Daniel when he was...
Like the French frontier police who thought that some of Picasso’s Cubist drawings were plans of the country’s defenses.
It’s nice to be able to retire. Comforting. You think so? he said. Isn’t it? No, he said. Endings are never nice.
It is only by drawing often, drawing everything, drawing incessantly, I read in the collection of letters written by Camille Pissarro to his son Lucien, that one fine day you discover to your surprise...
It hurts a father to see a son this way. It makes no difference what age the son is; it hurts.
Is it better for man to live with uncertainty? Is the answer of Freud an answer? We should simply learn to accept our position as strange sick creatures? Is the answer of Nietzsche an answer? We shoul...
In our time... a man whose enemies are faceless bureaucrats almost never wins. It is our equivalent to the anger of the gods in ancient times. But those gods you must understand were far more imaginat...
I grew up encrusted with lead and spectrumed with crayons. My dearest companions were Eberhard and Crayola. Washing for meals was a cosmic enterprise.
Excuse me, you taught trope in Theresienstadt?
Devorah told me, Our daughter is grown, and there were tears in her eyes.
Devorah tended to fill empty spaces with books: end tables, the tops of dressers, the edges of desks, on occasion even a chair. She would arrange and rearrange the books with exacting care, lining up...
Art happens when what is seen becomes mixed with the inside of the person who is seeing it. If