I don’t know. Do men kill men, except in madness? Does any beast kill its own kind? Only the insects. These yumens kill us as lightly as we kill snakes. The one who taught me said that they kill one another, in quarrels, and also in groups, like ants fighting. I haven’t seen that. But I know they don’t spare one who asks life. They will strike a bowed neck, I have seen it! There is a wish to kill in them, and therefore I saw fit to put them to death.

There will come a time when men look upon the murder of animals as they now look upon the murder of men.

Truly man is the king of beasts, for his brutality exceeds them. We live by the death of others. We are burial places.

The killers are the people who are ruining the world to line their pockets, poisoning us, burying us under garbage!

He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survive.

He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survived. Because of all this he became possessed of a great pride in himself, which communicated itself like a contagion to his physical being.

Tis but a dog-like madnesse in bad Kings,
For to delight in wounds and murdering.
As some plants prosper best by cuts and blowes:
So Kings by killing doe encrease their foes.

- <i>Cruelty</i>

The fantastic graces of Chivalry lay upon the surface of life, but beneath it was a half-savage population, fierce and animal, with little ruth or mercy.

You are all the same species, you have the same goals, the same dreams, the same fears...eat the same food, sleep the same sleep...So you have to go out of your way to divide yourselves, to make it easier to kill one another. Boundaries, nations, blocks, creeds, names, fashion. You kill one another for a pair of sneakers. Your leaders oppress and exploit you for their own power, and you allow it happily, if in so doing they can kill those who you have decided are not like you. You are a race of madmen.

For we are all killers, on land and on sea; Bonapartes and Sharks included.

If we cut up beasts simply because they cannot prevent us and because we are backing our own side in the struggle for existence, it is only logical to cut up imbeciles, criminals, enemies, or capitalists for the same reasons.

…in the end you’ll all be locked together, like the poor beasts that get their antlers mixed and are found dead that way, their heads fattened with a knowledge of each other they never wanted, having had to contemplate each other, head-on and eye to eye, until death; well, that will be you and Jenny and Robin.

We're a violent people, Cal. Does it seem strange to you that I include myself? Maybe it's true, that we are all descendants of the restless, the nervous, the criminals, the arguers, and brawlers. But also the brave, and independent, and generous. If our ancestors hadn't been that, they would've stayed in their home plots in the other world and starved over the squeezed-out soil.

What killed people wasn't a bullet, a blade, a fist to the face. What killed people was a feeling. Left too long. Sometimes in the cold, frozen. Sometimes buried and fetid. And sometimes on the shores of a lake, isolated. Left to grow old, and odd.