"I couldn't kill a chicken, I couldn't kill a cow - I was a vegetarian too at that time - so I thought, well what is there that I could kill? I couldn't kill this and I couldn't kill that"
About this Quote
It lands like a confession disguised as an anecdote: the absurd logistics of violence, narrated with the plainspoken cadence of someone thinking out loud. Ellen Burstyn isn’t moralizing about vegetarianism so much as exposing a psychological snag we rarely admit. Even in fantasies of toughness, most of us run into a surprisingly intimate barrier: the body. Not “Do I believe in killing?” but “Could I actually do it, with my hands, to a living thing that looks back?”
The repetition - “I couldn’t kill this and I couldn’t kill that” - does the real work. It’s not rhetorical flourish; it’s a mind cycling through options the way you inventory a refrigerator at midnight. That structure makes the impulse feel both comic and unsettling, because it turns harm into a practical problem, a checklist. The humor isn’t a punchline; it’s a pressure valve for discomfort.
Contextually, coming from an actress whose career is built on inhabiting extremes, the quote reads like a backstage glimpse of how performance and morality collide. Actors simulate murder for a living, but the line reminds you how different pretend brutality is from the tactile reality of ending a life. The subtext is about limits: the places where identity (“I was a vegetarian”) isn’t a label but a constraint that rearranges what you imagine yourself capable of. It’s also a sly commentary on cultural distance from violence - we outsource killing to institutions, screens, and supply chains, then act shocked when it feels real.
The repetition - “I couldn’t kill this and I couldn’t kill that” - does the real work. It’s not rhetorical flourish; it’s a mind cycling through options the way you inventory a refrigerator at midnight. That structure makes the impulse feel both comic and unsettling, because it turns harm into a practical problem, a checklist. The humor isn’t a punchline; it’s a pressure valve for discomfort.
Contextually, coming from an actress whose career is built on inhabiting extremes, the quote reads like a backstage glimpse of how performance and morality collide. Actors simulate murder for a living, but the line reminds you how different pretend brutality is from the tactile reality of ending a life. The subtext is about limits: the places where identity (“I was a vegetarian”) isn’t a label but a constraint that rearranges what you imagine yourself capable of. It’s also a sly commentary on cultural distance from violence - we outsource killing to institutions, screens, and supply chains, then act shocked when it feels real.
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
|---|
More Quotes by Ellen
Add to List





