What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.

What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.

More than 90 percent of all the prisoners in our American prisons have been abused as children.

More than 90 percent of all the prisoners in our American prisons have been abused as children.

Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature: these are the spur and reins read more

Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature: these are the spur and reins whereby all mankind are set on work, and guided

The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing..for once started upon that journey, the hog never came read more

The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing..for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back. One by one the men hooked up the hogs and slit their throats. There was a line of hogs with squeals and lifeblood ebbing away.. until at last each vanished into a huge vat of boiling water (some still alive). The hogs were so innocent. They came so very trustingly. They were so very human in their protests. They had done nothing to deserve it.
in the book THE JUNGLE.

If there is justice with no mercy, Ira Flatow
will have to come back countless times as
a lab rat read more

If there is justice with no mercy, Ira Flatow
will have to come back countless times as
a lab rat for all the cruelty he has promoted on NPR.

The zen of flyfishing is that zen masters
don't fish.. the Buddha suffocates no creature.

The zen of flyfishing is that zen masters
don't fish.. the Buddha suffocates no creature.

I haven't touched my brother in almost 18 years.
(in reference to cruel prison regulations in Mansfield Ohio
prison)
http://www.kennyisinnocent.org read more

I haven't touched my brother in almost 18 years.
(in reference to cruel prison regulations in Mansfield Ohio
prison)
http://www.kennyisinnocent.org
http://www.petitiononline.com/manci.

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake read more

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs,,
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings
Mirth is mail of anguish,
In which its cautious arm
Lest anybody spy the blood
And, you're hurt exclaim.

I never yet heard man or woman much abused that I was not inclined to think the better of them, read more

I never yet heard man or woman much abused that I was not inclined to think the better of them, and to transfer the suspicion or dislike to the one who found pleasure in pointing out the defects of another.