“His words sliced through my heart, cutting it into little pathetic pieces.”

“I have a knife in my hand, slicing beef on the willowware plate, and I cut harder, faster, thinking it is your pink neck under my blade and I am cutting you into little pieces that I will bury in the meadow outside when there is no moon.”

“A cut. That's what I felt. Words can cut, slice, like a razor.”

“When you move so quickly from innocence to a world of fear, pain and loss, it's as if the flesh of your heart and mind gets cut away, piece by piece, like slices taken off a ham. Finally, there is nothing left but bone.”

“And if i had to listen to one more minute of my demon's increasingly pathetic and creepy attempts to get a piece of rebound faery ass, i was going to cut a bitch.”

“Good thing my mother-in-law isn’t pizza shaped, because then I’d have to cut her up into eight slices and serve her to her family. As it is, I only need to cut her up into four pieces, and serve her to the pigs.”