A memorable something I found online.
Written by Quin Browne
They kill the sweet baby cows before their eyes turn brown, you know. Pale fleshed, silly creatures, blindly trusting, going into the dark place with the filtered light, the muffled voices, growing complacent, coaxed by soft hands that touch with gentle movements, moving forward from one place to the other, no stress, content with the attention received. Little innocents, who walk into a room to see what is there, sensing no danger, held down, forced into an uncomfortable and scary position, and then it's over. She was aware of all these facts before, but it never affected her ability to enjoy veal. Now, she hates the taste of veal. It was on his breath that night, when he raped her after dinner.