“Sharing his memories felt like handing over a sharp knife. A knife that others might handle carelessly. A knife that could be used to hurt him.”
“She looked at the knife, her throat tight with emotion. No roses or rings with him, but a knife with feathers carved into the handle. A knife that was part of him. She couldn't accept it.”
“This is my knife. It is very sharp and very eager to hurt you.”
“Give me the knife!"Simon held out his hand. Lincoln glanced over as he struggled with Albert. "Could you take it out of your hand first?" he said. Simon gritted his teeth and pulled the knife out.”
“My chest hurts...It hurts. The sound of his name is like a knife in my heart.”
“The tongue like a sharp knife... Kills without drawing blood.”