Peace (n.) with the other is first of all my business.
Peace (n.) requires a superhuman pardon: the Messiah, on his own, would have refused Egypt's gift.
Peace (n.) is not absolute Logic or harmony in a System; it is separation, the diaspora of absolutes.
Peace (n.) won by empires rests on war; it does not give the alienated back their lost identity.
Peace (n.) is produced as the aptitude for speech: in the totality of wars and empires, no one speaks.
Peace (n.) must always be made again, because by my very identity — taking up room in being — I push the neighbor away.
Peace (n.) can only have an eschatology: it does not arrive inside history as the end of a war.
Peace (n.) is not the mere absence of violence among parts of a whole: only beings capable of war can rise to peace.
Peace (n.) of the rational kind is only war made patient, calculation, mediation and politics, the struggle of each against all turned into commerce.
Peace (n.) in the Western tradition is the security of a man content in his well-being and freedom — the calm of a rest guaranteed to the I.
Peace (n.) cannot rest on indifference; its serenity is inseparable from the love of one's neighbour.
Peace (n.) is a concept that goes beyond purely political thought — what is politically weak about it may be its audacity and its strength.
Peace (n.) is not the security and non-aggression that guarantees everyone their position in being, but non-in-difference itself — the for-the-other of responsibility.
Peace (n.) won by a messianic triumph would abolish violence only by suspending the difference between the same and the other — and with it the very idea of peace.
Peace (n.) is not the repose of a self within itself but an anxious peace — love of one's fellow man, a watchfulness the Torah keeps awake.
Peace (n.) if on both of Israel's frontiers swords became ploughshares and tanks became tractors, would astound the universe by the possibilities.
Peace (n.) can come by a road higher than politics: Sadat's trip to Jerusalem looked on television like man's first steps on the moon — and was no more irrational.
Peace (n.) is not the end of combats that cease for want of combatants — cemeteries, or future universal empires; it must be my peace, a relation from an I to the other.
Peace (n.) falls to me and the neighbor cannot take it off my hands: I am a hostage, since I alone must wage it — a fine risk, run dangerously.
Peace (n.) is not the silence of non-interference in which the beautiful creates silence, but a peace in which the eyes of the other are sought and his look awakens responsibility.