But it was wordless and so had the penurious privilege of visual art, of being able to invoke many meanings without being pinned down by the specificities of words.

[...] one of the unmentionable facts of everyday life is that we're all made of meat, as I remember when I walk alone, regularly, in the territory of mountain lions. The carnivorous Inuit sometimes say, "The great peril of our existence lies in the fact that our diet consists entirely of souls," which doesn't lessen the trauma of anthropophagy, of eating human flesh, but deepens that of everyday consuption of other sentient beings.