“Man’s sin is in his failure to live what he is. Being the master of the earth, man forgets that he is the servant of God.”

Aeons hence, when of many of our cherished theories only shreds will remain, that cosmic tapestry will continue to shine.

For many of us the march from Selma to Montgomery was about protest and prayer. Legs are not lips and walking is not kneeling. And yet our legs uttered songs.

Celebration is a confrontation, giving attention to the transcendent meaning of one’s actions.

Self-respect is the fruit of discipline.

What we cannot comprehend by analysis, we become aware of in awe.

When faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion, its message becomes meaningless.

It is not critical knowledge but a risk of the heart which initiates affection and preserves loyalty in our fellow men.

The anchor of meaning resides in an abyss, deeper than the reach of despair.

I am commanded therefore I am.

Only in His presence shall we learn that the glory of humankind is not in its will to power but in its power of compassion.

Sometimes we wish the world could cry and tell us about that which made it pregnant with fear-filling grandeur. Sometimes we wish our own heart would speak of that which made it heavy with wonder.

When we pray, we bring G-d into the world

What is meant, however, is a higher category than being: the power of maintaining being.

A prophet’s true greatness is his ability to hold God and man in a single thought.

The supremacy of expediency is being refuted by time and truth.

How embarrassing for man to be the greatest miracle on earth and not to understand it!