“She smiled like knife on a velvet, she stretched like cat on the sun.”
“She smiled like a story entering the mind of a cat.”
“She smiled again. "Do you like cat?" she said."Yes," said Richard. "I quite like cats."Anaesthesia looked relieved. "Thigh?" she asked, "or breast?”
“He smiled then, and that smile was like the sunset, stretching from one end of her existence to the other, lighting her way not by sight, but with a slow kindle inside she knew would never leave her bereft for the sun's warmth.”
“It always looked to me like she was smiling. In fact, I know she was. Lots if things smile, like a flower to the sun. And one thing sure. I knew that just like I could smile to see Pinky, she sure could smile to see me.”
“. . . had decided what to do, which was to smile like the morning sun with a knife in its teeth.”