There Is No Death. How Can There

The Truth Is That What The Great Religions Preached, The Yiddish-speaking People Of The Ghettos Practiced Day In And Day Out. They Were The People Of The Book In The Truest Sense Of The Word. They Knew Of No Greater Joy Than The Study Of Man And Human Relations, Which They Called Torah, Talmud, Mussar, Cabala.

There Will Be No Justice As Long As Man Will Stand With A Knife Or With A Gun And Destroy Those Who Are Weaker Than He Is.

There Is A Quiet Humor In Yiddish And A Gratitude For Every Day Of Life, Every Crumb Of Success, Each Encounter Of Love... In A Figurative Way, Yiddish Is The Wise And Humble Language Of Us All, The Idiom Of A Frightened And Hopeful Humanity.

Every Creator Painfully Experiences The Chasm Between His Inner Vision And Its Ultimate Expression.

I Get Up Every Morning With A Desire To Do Some Creative Work. This Desire Is Made Of The Same Stuff As The Sexual Desire, The Desire To Make Money, Or Any Other Desire.