I've got a beautiful kitchen, which looks like a '60s version of space, with silver chrome, orange glass work surfaces, and brown leather, and it's entirely visual and has little function. I've hardly got any knives, and there's only one wooden spoon and one saucepan. But I think I've got a cheese grater, so that's good.

The knives of jealousy are honed on details.

I've always wanted to go to Switzerland to see what the army does with those wee red knives.

A prayer that must have a cannon behind it better never be uttered. Forgiveness ought not to go in partnership with shot and shell. Love need not carry knives and revolvers.

At the root of many a woman's failure to become a great cook lies her failure to develop a workmanlike regard for knives.

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?

At least 50 times. I've jumped off a building, jumped off a cliff in a car. I've been in bedrooms when women came in with knives and guns.

People in West Virginia do have cars. We have indoor plumbing. We even use knives and forks.

Some people build custom motorcycles, cars, and knives. I build custom lives.

Prince Wen-hui's cook, Ting, was cutting up an ox. Every touch of his hand, every ripple of his shoulders, every step of his feet, every thrust of his knees, every cut of his knife, was in perfect harmony, like the dance of the Mulberry Grove, like the chords of the Lynx Head music. Well done! said the prince. How did you gain such skill? Putting down his knife, Ting said, I follow the Tao, Your Highness, which goes beyond all skills. When I first began cutting up oxen, all I could see was the ox. After three years, I had learned to look beyond the ox. Nowadays I see with my whole being, not with my eyes. I sense the natural lines, and my knife slides through by itself, never touching a joint, much less a bone. A good cook changes knives once a year: he cuts. An ordinary cook changes knives once a month: he hacks. This knife of mine has lasted for nineteen years; it has cut up thousands of oxen, but its blade is as sharp as if it were new. Between the joints there are spaces, and the blade has no thickness. Having no thickness, it slips right through; there's more than enough room for it. And when I come to a difficult part, I slow down, I focus my attention, I barely move, the knife finds its way, until suddenly the flesh falls apart on its own. I stand there and let the joy of the work fill me. Then I wipe the blade clean and put it away. Bravo! cried the prince. From the words of this cook, I have learned how to live my life.

Leo had seen Tia Callida in action; she liked knives, snakes and putting babies in roaring fires. Yeah, definitely let's unleash her rage. Great idea.

The figures looked more or less human. And they were engaged in religion. You could tell by the knives (it's not murder if you do it for a God).

Leaving us with Eric is like hiring a babysitter who spends his time sharpening knives.

I want to drag knives over my skin, just to feel something other than shame, but I'm not even brave enough for that

For a moment everything was clear, and when that happens you see that the world is barely there at all. Don't we all secretly know this? It's a perfectly balanced mechanism of shouts and echoes pretending to be wheels and cogs, a dreamclock chiming beneath a mystery-glass we call life. Behind it? Below it and around it? Chaos, storms. Men with hammers, men with knives, men with guns. Women who twist what they cannot dominate and belittle what they cannot understand. A universe of horror and loss surrounding a single lighted stage where mortals dance in defiance of the dark.

You don't ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It's all about survival; it's all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in...

The knives of jealousy are honed on details.

I've always wanted to go to Switzerland to see what the army does with those wee red knives.

I think the biggest thing is clean as you go. Wash all your knives cutting boards dishes when you are done cooking not look at a sink full of dishes after you are done. Cleaning as you go helps keep away cross contamination and you avoid having food borne bacteria.

At the root of many a woman's failure to become a great cook lies her failure to develop a workmanlike regard for knives.

At least 50 times. I've jumped off a building jumped off a cliff in a car. I've been in bedrooms when women came in with knives and guns.

It's amazing the relationships you forge in a kitchen. When you cooperate in an environment that's hot. Where there's a lot of knives. You're trusting your well-being with someone you've never before met or known.