The question, I've come to think, is not what inspires one to change, but what inspires one to remain changed.
Maybe one day the world will change, that we'll be in a luxurious position of being able to debate whether or not it's inherently wrong to eat animals, but the question doesn't matter right now.
Yesterday I wanted to turn inside out.
The choice-obsessed modern West is probably more accommodating to individuals who choose to eat differently than any other culture has ever been, but ironically, the utterly unselective omnivore - I’m...
Something having been done just about everywhere just about always is no kind of justification for doing it now.
Not in all ways (of course), but the animals you know have power: they have abilities humans lack, could be dangerous, could bring life, mean things that mean things.
No father knows that he is carrying his son up the stairs for the final time
Memory was supposed to fill the time, but it made time a hole to be filled.
Just how destructive does a culinary preference have to be before we decide to eat something else? If contributing to the suffering of billions of animals that live miserable lives and (quite often) d...
It was one of the best days of my life, a day during which I lived my life and didn't think about my life at all.
I will describe my eyes and then begin the story. My eyes are blue and resplendent. Now I will begin the story.
I went to my grandmother... and asked her to write a letter. I hardly knew her. I didn't have any interest in knowing her. I have no need for the past, I thought, like a child. I did not consider that...
I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I...
I wanted so much to have a life. Even just once, even for a second.
I made up my mind that nothing,, nothing was going to stop meNot even me.
I have tutored Little Igor to be a man of this world. For example, I exhibited him a smutty magazine three days yore, so that he should be appraised of the many positions in which I am carnal. 'This i...
He was caught somewhere between his mother's last kiss and the first kiss he would give his child, between the war that was and would be
He ran the back of his hand up her cheek, with the pretense of wiping away sweat.
Feathers filled the small room. Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?
Everything is the way it is because everything was the way it was.