Halakhah (n.) supplies knowledge and commands; agada supplies exaltation and inspires.
Halakhah (n.) is a corpse without the stories, and the stories run wild without halacha.
Halakhah (n.) seen from outside looks like a mosaic of external acts, tempting us to think only ritual is judged.
Halakhah (n.) teaches how to act; agada teaches how to be.
Halakhah (n.) is the body of Judaism and agada its soul; neither lives alone.
Halakhah (n.) gives life a fixed shape; agada is the restless striving that keeps breaking the mold.
Halakhah (n.) informs us; agada inspires us to reach.
Halakhah (n.) is precise and commanding; agada hints and kindles.
Halakhah (n.) cut off from agada stiffens into a corpse; agada cut loose from halacha goes feral.
Halakhah (n.) borrows its authority from agada, since the mystery of Sinai on which it rests is not a legal fact.
Halakhah (n.) is a reply to a living question, God's demand on me, and turns to noise once nobody is asking.
Halakhah (n.) is the string and agada the bow; only the taut string lets the bow make music.