Let me say it openly: we are surrounded by an enterprise of degradation, cruelty, and killing which rivals anything the Third Reich was capable of, indeed dwarfs it, in that ours is an enterprise without end, self-regenerating, bringing rabbits, rats, poultry, livestock ceaselessly into the world for the purpose of killing them.

[Hariharan is] an outstanding writer.

In order to be cruel we have to close our hearts to the suffering of the other.

The spark of true poetry flashes when ideas are juxtaposed that no one has yet thought of bringing together.

A book should be an axe to chop open the frozen sea inside us.

We must cultivate, all of us, a certain ignorance, a certain blindness, or society will not be tolerable.

For himself, then. For his idea of the world, a world in which men do not use shovels to beat corpses into a more convenient shape for processing.