Life's (n.) task is to face sacred moments.
Life (n.) is a thing one must build for oneself as if it were a work of art.
Life (n.) is unpredictable — no one can write his autobiography in advance.
Life (n.) outranks even the Torah scroll in holiness, and that holiness is given, not earned.
Life (n.) is God's concern as much as man's, and knowing that is half of religion.
Life (n.) is not a pleasure hunt but a commitment to service, as soldiers in battle know.
Life (n.) is a corridor of doors, some ajar and some shut; wisdom is knowing how to open them.
Life (n.) is not a thing but a living, and living means choosing a road it cannot pick for you.
Life (n.) is defined by being challenged, tempted and called, so mere survival is never enough.
Life (n.) can be a song sung in deeds, one that never ends.
Life (n.) is an assignment rather than a pension, an order to carry out rather than a favor to enjoy.
Life (n.) is never a matter of course, and death is the teacher of that lesson.
Life (n.) is a transcendent loan that visits matter; parents who pass it on are its tools, not its owners.
Life (n.) is sacred because it is God's property, not ours.
Life (n.) moves in an ellipse around two centers, the self and what lies beyond it.
Life (n.) is an aspiration, a road rather than a refuge, and faith is the insight that sees it so.
Life (n.) reveals the divine; death conceals it.
Life (n.) is a challenge and can be a celebration, but it is shrunk by mere pleasure and entertainment.
Life (n.) should be built like a work of art, since a person is not a machine.
Life (n.) is an answer to someone, never a monologue spoken to the empty room.