In the midst of our most serious affairs there intrudes the imperious question of bread and butter.

So long as there are stomachs to digest--and as yet we are unable to dispense with them--we must find the wherewithal to fill them, and the powerful will live by the sufferings of the weak.

Life is a void that only death can fill.

Hence the endless butchery by which man nourishes himself, no less than beetles and other creatures; hence the perpetual holocausts which make of this earth a knacker's yard, beside which the slaughter-houses of Chicago are as nothing.
But the feasters are legion, and the feast is not abundant in proportion.

Those that have not are envious of those that have; the hungry bare their teeth at the satisfied.