Cockroaches and socialites are the only things that can stay up all night and eat anything.

Eat in the dark the bargain that you purchased in the dusk.

They alone moved through the vast inertness. They alone were alive, and they sought for other things that were alive in order that they might devour them and continue to live.

They devour each other and cannot even digest themselves.

Only the dead have discovered what they cannot live without.

There is no body but eats and drinks. But they are few who can distinguish flavors.

Those who live by bread alone will submit, for the sake of it, to the vilest abuse, like a hungry dog.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

Darkness feeds on apathy.

The only power that black people have is their hunger.

A nation regenerates itself only upon heaps of corpses.

They are time, and time eats everything but listens to no one.

They were kept in the dark, squatting there with nothing to dwell upon beyond the fact they were unclean. Even the touch of their shadow would sour the land, blighting crops that grew there....At the end of their confinement they were led out blinking into the harsh and masculine glare of the sun. Their clothing was taken from them and destroyed. Their anger in darkness turning, unreleased, unspoken, its mouth a red wound...

Behind every dish there is death, and people only close their own eyes to it.