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— Sylvia Plath"A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife."
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The instant that the blade tore open his flesh, the bright disk of the sun soared up and exploded behind his eyelids.
— Yukio Mishima
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...Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty. But I would, oh, yes.
— George R. R. Martin
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