All that's missing for Utah is a blindfold and a cigarette.
Hanging was the worst use a man could be put to.
The best way to die is sit under a tree, eat lots of bologna and salami, drink a case of beer, then blow up.
I'm very sentimental about lobsters. The last lobster I ate was the only lobster I cooked.
Remember that any meal can be your last. You chose to travel with us, so tonight you will eat fish. Tomorrow, you may die.
Eat every meal as if it's your last; when the last one comes, you probably won't be very hungry.
Many mornings I check out the news as soon as I wake up, because if it turns out that the world is coming to an end that day, I am going to eat the frosting off an entire carrot cake; just for a start. Then I will move onto vats of clam dip, pots of crime brûlée, nachos, M & M's etc. Then I will max out both my credit cards.
I've long said that if I were about to be executed and were given a choice of my last meal, it would be bacon and eggs. There are few sights that appeal to me more than the streaks of lean and fat in a good side of bacon, or the lovely round of pinkish meat framed in delicate white fat that is Canadian bacon. Nothing is quite as intoxicating as the smell of bacon frying in the morning, save perhaps the smell of coffee brewing.
Condemned and executioner with aren't coupled in a primitive rite.
My last meal on Earth, I would love it to be a bowl of blueberries with cold cream.
I would have my last meal at my home in Oxfordshire.
It's like being on Death Row in an American jail. You are waiting for the door handle to turn, not knowing whether it's a reprieve or just your final breakfast before being executed.
How had I not seen that there was nothing more important than an execution, and that when you come right down to it, it was the only thing a man could truly be interested in?
If a woman were about to proceed to her execution, she would demand a little time to perfect her toilet.
I am a child of America. If ever I'm sent to Death Row for my revolutionary 'crimes,' I'll order as my last meal: a hamburger, french fries, and a coke.
I've long thought that for my last meal on earth I will be perfectly happy with a granary loaf toastie with melted crunchy peanut butter and banana.
I still eat sushi, though I'm trying my best to have my last sushi roll.
My last meal? The food would be much less significant than the company.
My perfect last meal would be: shrimp cocktail, lasagna, steak, creamed spinach, salad with bleu cheese dressing, onion rings, garlic bread, and a dessert of strawberry shortcake.
Make your way to death row and speak with the tragic victims of criminality. As they prepare to make their pathetic walk to the electric chair, their hopeless cry is that society will not forgive. Capital punishment is society's final assertion that it will not forgive.
If this is the end of the world, give me a fork and a knife.
Death Row is the same every day - breakfast at 3 A.M., lunch at 10 A.M., dinner at 3 P.M.
I’ve long said that if I were about to be executed and were given a choice of my last meal, it would be bacon and eggs.
My last meal on Earth? The obvious answer is a plate of my mother's scrambled eggs.
I wholly promote the omelette as a meal whatever the occasion, especially your last one.
