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Saturday is the worst of the week. Whenever I touch anything on this day, straightway there comes a voice: Don’t do that, today it’s a sin.
“Sin?” I ask.
Says Mother: “Sin is that for which the Good…
Day grows darker
And darker.
Mobs are advancing on the town,
Mobs clotted with blood,
Made remorseless by killing children,
Lustfully they advance,
To rip off heads,
Feeble, melancholy heads.
They…
Another week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it…
“God’s writing engraved on the
tablets”—read not harut (engraved)
but herut (freedom).
—Sayings of the Fathers VI, 2
Among all the problems of present-day Jewish life, that of youth’s attitude…
Fabius Lind’s days are running out in blood.
Red serpents of failures empty his veins.
In his head—white muddy stains. Confusion.
And a heavy load on his heart.
He could have . . .
He could have . .…
I certainly had an obscure childhood
but intensely my own,
a childhood which wanted to be dashing
but had the features of a caricature.
Yes, a caricature. For example:
that absurd love for Sophie,…
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who created His world for the purpose of mankind, and, from all the different sorts of men, chose for Himself a nation as a special treasure—namely…
This is November
Season of mills.
Wind of the black early morning services.
Cemetery
And thousandnightliness
Of the childish little candles,
And their fear.
Trudging now
Through the…
A big room divided in two by screens. One half represents a bedroom where Odele reclines sadly on a sofa. The other half represents Bontsye’s room: on a table lie a taytsh-khumesh [the Tsene…
Judith:Ev’rything lies deep in shadow.[She feels her way forward.][She shudders.]The walls are sweating.Tell me BluebeardWhy this moisture on my fingers?Walls and rafters, all are weeping.[She covers…