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If you don’t believe your salmon is wild, ask it to fetch your newspaper and see what happens.
--
"Menus: Grilled Salmon". Stacey's at Waterford. Retrieved on 2008-01-14.

 

Scott Adams

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On 28 May 1961 I wrote an article in The Observer newspaper which gave birth to Amnesty International. It began with these words: 'Open your newspaper any day of the week and you will find a report from somewhere in the world of someone being imprisoned, tortured or executed because his opinions or religion are unacceptable to his government ... The newspaper reader feels a sickening sense of impotence. Yet if these feelings of disgust could be united into common action, something effective could be done.'

 

Peter Benenson

 

"Monkfish liver! Can you sell them? How many people order them?" one chef will say. "I herda them," says another. "The f**king burger…" groans another, "I can’t get it off the menu. I tried, but they scream." "Give them the damn burger," says another, "and f**king salmon if they want it too. Just slip them the good stuff slowly, when they're not looking. A little here,a little there, as a special. Choke them with burgers but slide them tuna rare. Give them their salmon, but make it ceviche. They’ll come around. They’re coming around."

 

Anthony Bourdain

 

Accuracy to a newspaper is what virtue is to a lady; but a newspaper can always print a retraction.

 

Adlai Stevenson

 

I want to bring down civilization. It's really clear that civilization is killing the planet. I’m interested in living in a world that has more wild salmon every year than the year before. A world that has more migratory songbirds every year than the year before. A world that has less dioxins and flame retardants in mothers' breast milk. A world not being destroyed. A world where krill populations aren’t collapsing. A world where there are not dead zones in the oceans. A world not being systematically dismantled. I want to live in a world that is not being killed. I will do whatever it takes to get there.

 

Derrick Jensen

 

Home from Guatemala, back at the Waldorf.
This arrival in the wild country of the soul,
All approaches gone, being completely there,
Where the wild poem is a substitute
For the woman one loves or ought to love,
One wild rhapsody a fake for another.

 

Wallace Stevens