“Tragedy was like that, a razor that sliced through time, severing the now from the before, incising the what-might-have-been from reality as cleanly as any surgeon's blade.”
“A moment before this voice spoke, Lord Emsworth had been smirking. He now congealed, and the smile passed from his lips like breath off a razor, to be succeeded be a tense look of anxiety and alarm.”
“A cut. That's what I felt. Words can cut, slice, like a razor.”
“You have to see fate as a design, a pattern, and the will as the knife, the blade, the thing slicing through the fabric...”
“If your blade were as sharp as your tongue, you'd have sliced my through years ago.”
“There is nothing quite as unpleasant as wearing a pair of briefs which have been trailed through a Calcutta courtyard. Nothing, that is, except having one's elbows and knees lacerated by unseen slivers of glass and discarded razor blades.”