When we eat factory-farmed meat we live, literally, on tortured flesh. Increasingly, that tortured flesh is becoming our own.

I didn't feel empty. I wished I'd felt empty. ... I wanted to be empty like an overturned pitcher. But I was full like a stone.

The images of his infinite pasts and infinite futures washed over him as he waited, paralyzed, in the present.

Being with him made my brain quiet. I didn't have to invent a thing.

The more exposure people have to the realities of factory farming, the more we will see people rejecting it. It's already happening.

The way that I feel about my Jewish identity has been really radically changed by events in life. Like, becoming a writer is one. Having children is another. And getting older and watching, you know, my parents and grandparents get older has been another, the seasons of - being witness to the seasons of life and wanting to have some kind of infrastructure to deal with it, to cope with them. Ritual has become more important to me as I've gotten older. It's not always religious ritual, but it often borrows from Judaism.

Why is taste, the crudest of our senses, exempted from the ethical rules that govern our other senses?