Everything in this room is eatable, even I'm eatable, but that is called hannibalism, my dear children…

I do wish we could chat longer, but... I'm having an old friend for dinner.

— Hannibal, confess. What is this divine-looking amuse-bouche?
— If I tell you, I'm afraid you won't even try it.

A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

— But the eating. It filled him with white light tearful, he swore to me that he felt the touch of God almighty
— What the hell do you know?
— I know it's pretty damn weird to eat people. He didn't just eat their bodies. He ate their souls.