Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!
-Moby-Dick
When I kill it, it will be a dirty kill. A sloppy kill. Contempt, slight regard, no more. A spiteful, unclean slaughtering, its carcass spread all over the abatoir, unfit for consumption, unfit for burial. A passional slaying, a slave's revolt, I will spit on its corpse and turn my back on it in anger. Or shall I find respect for it, once rid of its yoke?
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