[Opening lines] A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of Anatevka, every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask, why do we stay here if it's so dangerous? We stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: Tradition!

Traditions, traditions. Without our traditions, our lives would be as shaky as... as... as a fiddler on the roof!

[to God] Sometimes I wonder, when it gets too quiet up there, if You are thinking, "What kind of mischief can I play on My friend Tevye?"

[to God] It may sound like I'm complaining, but I'm not. After all, with Your help, I'm starving to death.

[to God] Oh, dear Lord. You made many many poor people. I realize, of course, it's no shame to be poor... but it's no great honor either. So what would be so terrible... if I had a small fortune?

As the Good Book says, if you spit in the air, it lands in your face.

[to God] I know, I know. We are Your chosen people. But, once in a while, can't You choose someone else?

[to Chava] As the Good Book says "Each shall seek his own kind". In other words, a bird may love a fish... but where would they build a home together?

When I get angry, even flies don't dare to fly!