Quotes About Knife

Juliette Stray is a bleach-blond Mamie Van Doren knockoff. She kisses cheeks left and right as she moves through the crowd. A big smile masks someone trying to look way too nice for it to be anything but protective coloring—like the pretty stripes on a coral snake. Better keep an eye on her. If things go bad, she'll be the one who puts the knife in.

What kind of knife is this?" "It's a chip from the chicken legs that hold up Baba Yaga's house. A good-luck charm. Keep it if you want. Just don't tell Baba Yaga you got it from me.

What . . . what did you do to Marv?' 'He's all right.' Her eyes lowered to Roy's knife hand. He glanced down. His hand was shiny red. 'So I lied,' he said. 'God in heaven! O merciful God!

But Mr Tibbs didn't hesitate for long. 'Tell the head gardener,' he whispered, 'that I require immediately a brand new unused garden fork and also a spade. And for a knife we shall use the great sword hanging on the wall in the morning-room. But clean the sword well first. It was last used to cut off the head of King Charles the First and there may still be a little dried blood on the blade.

I opened the small blade of my knife and handed it to Peewee, "With your shield or on it, soldier." "You take it." "I won't need it. 'Two-Fisted Death,' they call me around dark alleys." This was propaganda, but why worry her? Sans peur et sans reproche—maiden-rescuing done cheaply, special rates for parties.

Harvey didn't set his phone to beep or buzz or vibrate like a normal person. Harvey's phone screeched with a string piece from the Hitchcock movie Psycho, the scene with Janet Leigh in the shower, the knife rising and falling, the string section shrieking with short, staccato stabs, the lone violin slashing through the fermata with discordant glissandos, more violins joining the first, violas adding their teeth, mad strings schooling like orchestral sharks at a blood-drunk feast.

As long as your knife keeps pretending it's a mini sun, we should be all right.

Meet back here at three. We can retire and compare notes." "Don't be one second late," I murmured in return. "Or the knife that sleeps in my bag might just find a home in your heart.

Jenks enthusiastically leaned against the counter and opened the box. Bypassing the plastic knife, he broke off about a third of it and took a huge bite. Ivy watched, appalled, and I shrugged. His mouth moving as he hummed, Jenks finished unpacking the sacks. I was half dead, Ivy was whoring herself to keep me safe, but Jenks was okay as long as he had chocolate.

Boots and leather jackets were strewn on her bed, and what looked like a new knife set. She'd taken a class last winter and was dying to try them out legally on someone.

Religion is like a knife: you can either use it to cut bread, or stick in someone's back.

Religion is a barbarous obsidian knife poised over our chests put it in a cabinet and admire it as a work of art, but don't ever wield the damned thing ever again.

The knife is the most durable, immortal, the most genius thing that man created. The knife was the guillotine; the knife is the universal means of solving all knots; and along the blade of a knife lies the path of paradox - the single most worthy path of the fearless mind.

Along the blade of a knife lies the path of paradox—the single most worthy path of the fearless mind . . . .

All women are lips, nothing but lips. Some pink, firmly round---a ring, a tender protection against the whole world. But these: a second ago they did not exist, and now--a knife slit--and the sweet blood will drip down.

So what if nothing but the breadth of a knife blade separates us from the other dark side of the Zero Cliff? A knife is the most permanent, the most immortal, the most ingenious of all of man's creations. The knife was a guillotine, the knife is a universal means of resolving all knots, and the path of paradox lies along the blade of a knife—the only path worthy of the mind without fear. . . .

The sport assassin: You know I use it as a metaphor, not to cause any problems. You have to have that part of your personality. I've always joked that Peyton is a nice guy and comes off as a nice guy. And if the situation on the field is, yeah, really nice guy but then you walk away and you're dripping blood, like you don't know how it happened, like the knife is so sharp, because he's that kind of a guy; over my dead body is this not going to go down this way.

The doctor] peeked into the trauma room and saw the situation: the clerk - that is, me - standing next to the orderly, Georgie, both of us on drugs, looking down at a patient with a knife sticking up out of his face. 'What seems to be the trouble?' he asked.

Be careful with that bloody great knife. Last time it was around, some oaf stuck me in the arse.

I know she was sent to keep an eye on me and then kill me, but … do you think she did fall in love with me, even just a small bit?" "Not really." "Oh." "She stuck a knife in you." "Yeah." "That's rarely a good sign." "I suppose." "But hey, you had some good times, didn't you?" "Yes. Yes we did." "Before she stabbed you.

There's nothing more natural than dying from a knife to the neck. What would be unnatural is if he'd survived.

Oh, yeah," Axelia whispered back. "I think I'm freaking out a bit. I've never seen a murder victim before." Omen frowned at her. "How do you know he was murdered?" "He has a knife sticking out of his back." Omen took a few steps to his left, and saw the knife handle. "Oh, yeah.

My husband in the kitchen never looked like anything other than a cheerful Kodiak trained in the glories of French cuisine, a glass of Malbec held careless in one hairy paw and a knife in the other.

I had my knife in hand before I realized I'd reached for it and had kicked open the...front door before it ever occurred to me that it might have already been unlocked.