“An alert copyreader on a newspaper couldn’t believe it when he read a reporter’s account of the theft of 2025 pigs. That’s a lot of pigs, he thought, and called the farmer to check the copy. “Is it true that you lost 2025 pigs?” he asked. “Yeth,” lisped the farmer. “Thanks,” returned the copyreader, and corrected the story to read “two sows and 25 pigs.””

“A pig is a pig," said the stranger, "and a pig-boy is a pig-boy.”

“… I think I'm a pig: Pigs have got eyes, pigs have got mouths, pigs have got teeth, I've got friends who eat like pigs, I sound like a pig when I sleep.”

“I am vegetarian. … I became one at 20 when I was working in a pig farm. I got attached to the pigs and I couldn’t stand the thought that they would have to go off to be slaughtered.”

“When you get in the mud with a pig, you get dirty and the pig gets happy.”

“You can put lipstick on a pig. It's still a pig.”

“He roared at me furiously for ten minutes after he finally managed to put out the sulky and determined fire, calling me a witless muttonheaded spawn of pig farmers-"My father's a wood-cutter," I said- "adOf axe-swinging lummocks!" he snarled.”

“A pig painted gold is still a pig.”

“I think they put some lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig.”

“The two men were greedily hunched over the table, like two wolves disputing a carcass, but their muttered speech in the echoing hall resembled more the grunting of pigs. One was less than a wolf: he was a public prosecutor. The other was more than a pig, he was a chief commissioner of police.”