“I is not understanding human beans at all,” the BFG said. “YOU is a human bean and you is saying it is grizzling and horrigust for giants to be eating human beans. Right or left?” “Right,” Sophie said. “But human beans is squishing EACH OTHER all the time,” the BFG said. “They is shootling guns and going up in aerioplanes to drop their bombs on each other’s heads every week. Human beans is always killing other human beans.” He was right. Of course he was right and Sophie knew it. She was beginning to wonder whether humans were actually any better than giants. “Even so,” she said, defending he own race, “I think it’s rotten that those foul giants should go off every night to eat humans. Humans have never done THEM any harm.” “That is what the little piggy-wig is saying every day,” the BFG answered. “He is saying, ‘I has never done any harm to the human bean so why should he be eating me?’” “oh dear,” Sophie said. “The human beans is making rules to suit themselves,” the BFG went on. “But the rules they is making do not suit the little piggy-wiggies. Am I right or left?” “Right,” Sophie said. “Giants is also making rules. Their rules is not suiting the human beans. Everybody is making his own rules to suit himself.” ”—Roald Dahl
“Do you like vegetables?” Sophie asked, hoping to steer the conversation towards a slightly less dangerous kind of food.
“You is trying to change the subject,” the Giant said sternly. “We is having an interesting babblement about the taste of the human bean. The human bean is not a vegetable.”
- Sophie: It's moving! It's alive!
- The BFG: Of course, it's alive.
- Sophie: What will you feed it on?
- The BFG: It is not needing any food
- Sophie: That's cruel. Everything alive needs food of some sort. Even trees and plants.
- The BFG: The north wind is alive. It is moving. It touches you on the cheek and on the hands. But nobody is feeding it.
- Sophie: *silence*
- The BFG: A dream is not needing anything. If it is a good one, it is waiting peaceably for ever until it is released and allowed to do its job. If t is a bad one, it is always fighting to get out.