It is a melancholy but an undoubted fact, that, even in the most thriving countries, part of the population annually dies of mere want. Not that all who perish from want absolutely die of hunger; though this calamity is of more frequent occurrence than is generally supposed.

All ways of dying are hateful to us poor mortals,
true, but to die of hunger, starve to death—
that's the worst of all.

When a poor person dies of hunger it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed.

We've got rights the right to starve
We've got jobs waiting for work
We're all brothers lousy and dirty
We're all free and equal to die like dogs

I see good people dying of cold and hunger.’ Well, don’t you see wicked people dying of luxury, pride and excess?

We must live together as brothers or perish together as fools.

Life is a banquet. And the tragedy is that most people are starving to death.

They were brutes, no doubt, but brutes who could not read, and who were dying of hunger.

They that die by famine die by inches.

We are the first nation to starve to death in a storehouse that's overfilled with everything we want.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers — joined in the serious business of keeping our food, shelter, clothing and loved ones from combining with oxygen.

There are many ways for people to die, but somehow dying of starvation is the most unacceptable of all. It happens in slow motion. Second by second, the distance between life and death becomes smaller and smaller, until the two are in such close proximity that one can hardly tell the difference.

We are stripped bare by the curse of plenty.

Altars are trimmed, and the poor suffer the bitter pangs of hunger.