Here’s another quote, this one from Elie Wiesel’s The Town Beyond the Wall:

I go up against him, I shake my fist, I froth with rage, but it’s still a way of telling him he’s there, that he exists, that he’s never the same twice, that denial itself is an offering to his grandeur. The shout becomes a prayer in spite of me.

An interesting quote, especially in light of the imprecatory psalms, and most especially of Psalm 88.