Pass the damn ham, please.

Countless were the hares ready skinned and the plucked fowls that hung on the trees for burial in the pots, numberless the wildfowl and game of various sorts suspended from the branches that the air might keep them cool. Sancho counted more than sixty wine skins

The dead to the grave, the living to the loaf.

FPD! CRISIS! I sent that package off. The chief item in it was a 6-pound ham. I figured you could take it to a butcher and get it sliced up so everybody would have some to take home. But I just noticed on your last invoice it says: "B. Marks, M. Cohen." Props. ARE THEY KOSHER? I could rush a tongue over. ADVISE PLEASE!

I would not like them here or there. I would not like them anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it was the sausage-maker who disposed of the body.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it was a sausage-maker who disposed of the body.

Nothing can be more shocking and horrid than one of our kitchens sprinkled with blood, and abounding with the cries of expiring victims, or with the limbs of dead animals scattered or hung up here and there. It gives one the image of a giant's den in a romance, bestrewed with scattered heads and mangled limbs.

Eventually, Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev were hanged. Their bodies were secretly cremated early at dawn outside Ganda Singh Wala village; the ashes were thrown into the Sutlej River.

In order to protect the physical hygiene and mental health of the living, we usually bury the dead.

Green eggs and ham...

They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds. I put this book here for you, who once lived So that you should visit us no more.

Some men ease themselves like setting hens into the nest of death.

Nothing we can't buy: rhino-horn with ham