“Hi," the werewolf said. He was dark-haired and broad, with gold eyes, big hands, and a feral scruffiness that Cole felt and instantly responded to. He had the weird urge to kill a cow and present it to the stranger. Two cows.”

“I got out of the elevator and confronted Mr. Wexler. “Killing is wrong.” “We kill chickens,” Mr. Wexler said. “We kill cows. We kill trees. So big deal, we kill some drug dealers.”It was hard to argue with that kind of logic because I like cows and chickens and trees much better than drug dealers.”

“he said it was sweeter and thicker than cows then he wanted to milk me into the tea...”

“Why, you may ask, didn't we have a cow tonight? No one would sell Bayard one. He had the brilliant idea of telling the farmers why he wanted the cow. The God-fearing folk would sell their cows to be eaten, but not for raising zombies. Prejudiced bastards.”

“When a cow lives with the butcher, sooner or later he gets eaten unless he helps the other cows off to their slaughter. (Nick)”

“When you get beef from the butcher, you don’t feel bad for the cow that has been killed. But if someone asked you to wield a knife and kill the cow yourself, you wouldn’t be able to do it.”“Are you saying that you are a cow?”“Exactly.”“What?”“You found me alive and couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. It would have been alright if the storm had finished me off. I am like that cow and the storm is the butcher. Do you see now?”“Yes, I see. You absolutely insist that you are a cow. I am not arguing.”