[hariharan Is] An Outstanding Writer.

Let Me Say It Openly: We Are Surrounded By An Enterprise Of Degradation, Cruelty, And Killing Which Rivals Anything The Third Reich Was Capable Of, Indeed Dwarfs It, In That Ours Is An Enterprise Without End, Self-regenerating, Bringing Rabbits, Rats, Poultry, Livestock Ceaselessly Into The World For The Purpose Of Killing Them.

I Say That I Represent This Movement Because My Intellectual Allegiances Are Clearly European, Not African.

The Gods, The Immortals, Were The Inventors Of Death And Corruption; Yet With One Or Two Notable Exceptions They Have Lacked The Courage To Try Their Invention Out On Themselves.

Despair ... Is Like A Gas, Odourless, Tasteless, Without Nourishment. You Breathe It In, Your Limbs Relax, You Cease To Care, Even At The Moment When The Steel Touches Your Throat.

I Am Spoken To Not In Words, Which Come To Me Quaint And Veiled, But In Signs, In Conformations Of Face And Hands, In Postures Of Shoulders And Feet, In Nuances Of Tune And Tone, In Gaps And Absences Whose Grammar Has Never Been Recorded.