“Then they both kept on knifing him against the door with alternate and easy stabs, floating in the dazzling backwater they had found on the other side of fear.”
“He had gone right through fear and come out the other side in some place cold. Anger was all that kept him warm. They could gentle him, or burn him to a crisp where he stood, and he no longer cared.”
“The truth is I did try to stab him. I tried to stab him with a butter knife. Why? Because it seemed deadlier than trying to stab him with a melting stick of butter.”
“life is a knife and it stabs”
“I stabbed the intruder with a knife. How else was I supposed to cut him into bite-sized pieces?”
“Both sides so blinded by their fear and hate of each other that they couldn't see they were all fighting for the same thing.”