“Ask a pig, sometime, about the trouble predicting the future from the past."

"I stared at him, trying to decide if he was joking. "I've been short on prognosticating pigs."

"Life is perfect for a pig," Ruc said. "Plenty of slops. A shed to keep off the rain. A good wallow. Every day for months a pig wakes up to the same perfect life. Sometimes for years. Then someone ties his hind legs together and cuts his throat while he squeals... The fact that my head's still attached at my neck doesn't mean no one's sharpening a knife.”