He was someone whom everyone admired and liked but whom nobody knew. He was like a book that you could feel good holding, that you could talk about without ever having read, that you could recommend.

If people thought about food more like how we think about the environment, a lot of people would be eating differently and the whole system would look a lot different.

We talked about nothing in particular, but it felt like we were talking about the most important things.

Few people sufficiently appreciate the colossal task of feeding a world of billions of omnivores who demand meat with their potatoes.

I kept thinking how they were all names of dead people, and how names are basically the only thing dead people keep.

The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, and so there is no end to suffering.

...he was leaving me. I wondered if I should stop him. If I should wrestle him to the ground and force him to love me. I wanted to hold his shoulders down and shout into his face.