cappochani

There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.

I think if the devil doesn't exist, then man has created him. He has created him in his own image and likeness.

“Life cannot be freed from all danger, and if it were it would become intolerably tedious. Risks must be run, and those who shiver at the slightest approach of risk will, if they are successful, condemn their society to barrenness and ossification.”

Mandi gave permission to share this. Look at this amazing bug!

“Fences are suggestions.”