Perchik: Money is the world's curse. Tevye: May the Lord smite me with it. And may I never recover.
Fiddler on the RoofTevye: [to Lazar Wolf] I always wanted a son, but I wanted one a little younger than myself.
Fiddler on the RoofYente: People! I tell you, Tzeitel, if God lived on earth, people would break his windows!
Fiddler on the RoofMordcha: If the rich could hire others to die for them we, the poor, would all make a nice living.
Fiddler on the Roof