"The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing—for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back; at the top of the wheel he was shunted off upon a trolley and went sailing down the room. And meantime another was swung up, and then another, and another, until there was a double line of them, each dangling by a foot and kicking in frenzy—and squealing. The uproar was appalling, perilous to the ear-drums; one feared there was too much sound for the room to hold—that the walls must give way or the ceiling crack. There were high squeals and low squeals, grunts, and wails of agony; there would come a momentary lull, and then a fresh outburst, louder than ever, surging up to a deafening climax. It was too much for some of the visitors—the men would look at each other, laughing nervously, and the women would stand with hands clenched, and the blood rushing to their faces, and the tears starting in their eyes. Meantime, heedless of all these things, the men upon the floor were going about their work. Neither squeals of hogs nor tears of visitors made any difference to them; one by one they hooked up the hogs, and one by one with a swift stroke they slit their throats. There was a long line of hogs, with squeals and life-blood ebbing away together; until at last each started again, and vanished with a splash into a huge vat of boiling water. It was all so very businesslike that one watched it fascinated. It was pork-making by machinery, pork-making by applied mathematics. And yet somehow the most matter-of-fact person could not help thinking of the hogs; they were so innocent, they came so very trustingly; and they were so very human in their protests—and so perfectly within their rights! They had done nothing to deserve it; and it was adding insult to injury, as the thing was done here, swinging them up in this cold-blooded, impersonal way, without a pretence at apology, without the homage of a tear. Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering-machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory."
― Upton Sinclair, The Jungle (1906)
@8 months ago with 1 note
#sinclair #upton sinclair #slaughter #pigs #hogs #sinclair on hogs #poems #novels #exurp #visitors #food #Shriek #squeal #slaughterhouse #animal #where food comes from #quote
"You gotta be a little embarrassed when you give your script to someone. You gotta be uncomfortable with some of the stuff you’ve put in there."
@9 months ago with 3 notes
#tarantino #on writing #quote #writig #script #Quentin Tarantino #quentin tarantino quotes
"Few are agreeable in conversation, because each thinks more of what he intends to say than of what others are saying, and listening more when he himself has a chance to speak."
Francois de la Rochefoucauld
@1 year ago with 3 notes
#quote #de la rochefoucauld #francois de la rochefoucauld #agreeable #conversation #intellectuals #philosophers #speaking #dialogue #monologue
"Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."
@1 year ago
#thomas merton #quote #art #aesthetics #on art #quotes on art #schopenhauer #merton
"You know, sometimes God reminds me of the misunderstood ogre with a heart of gold, who lives in friendless isolation behind his mountain, who is feared and shunned by all who live under his shadow, but who unbeknown to anyone preforms deeds of great kindness- like blowing a raincloud out of the path of a princess. But the people can only see his bad side, when overcome by sadness he stomps out a few towns."
@1 year ago with 5 notes
#And the Ass Saw the Angel #God #Nick Cave #quote