For a thousand days the great barge of the Adeptus sailed towards Earth. In the thirteen holds, each as cavernous as a temple nave, our human cargo set up a great wailing and moaning. I counted twenty thousand souls bound for service. Men, women and children. Young and old. The sick and the sound. Only the children did not know or could not guess what lay at the journey's end. But I am a Psyker like them and I sensed their pain and felt their chains as if bound about my own body. Already I could taste the fear of the weak and knew what fate held for them. They would serve with their lives. The remainder would serve in their own way. Their powers would be trained to provide the Emperor's Pskyers, Astropaths, and thousands of other functionaries. But the decision was not mine to make, to separate those who would live from those who would die. I am a guardian of the Adeptus. Souls such as these I carry to the Emperor's table.
Sweeney Todd: The history of the world, my love...
Mrs. Lovett: Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favors...
Sweeney Todd: ...is those below serving those up above.
Mrs. Lovett: Everybody shaves, so there should be plenty of flavors...
Sweeney Todd: How gratifying for once to know...
...that those above will serve those down below!
The Doctor: But did you bother to tell anyone that they might be eating their own relatives?
: Certainly not! That would have created what I believe is termed... "consumer resistance."
Dalek Emperor: The bodies were filleted. Pulped. Sifted. The seed of the human race is perverted! Only one cell in a billion was fit to be nurtured.
Doctor: So you created an army of Daleks out of the dead.
Rose: That makes 'em...half-human?
Dalek Emperor: THOSE WORDS ARE BLASPHEMY!
— "The Parting of the Ways"
Need parts. Kill ze little one!
Mankind's a limited resource, after all.
Edgar: Only seven.