Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,no sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,but 'banished' to kill me--'banished'?O friar, the damned use that word in hell;howling attends it! How hast thou the heart,being a divine, a ghostly confessor,a sin-absolver, and my friend professed,to mangle me with that word 'banished'?
There is something indefinably keen and wan about her anatomy, and she has a watchful way of looking out of the corners of her eyes without turning her head which could be pleasantly dispensed with, especially when she is in an ill humour and near knives. through all the good taste of her dress and little adornments, these objections so express themselves that she seems to go about like a very neat she-wolf imperfectly tamed.
Peeta smiles and douses haymitch's knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. he wipes the blade clean on his shirt tail and slices the bread. peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. i hunt. he bakes. haymitch drinks. we have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thought of our time as contestants in the hunger games at bay.
First, he said, coming behind me and placing his hands on the counter, just outside of mine, choose your tomato. He dipped his head so his mouth was at my ear. His breath was warm, tickling my skin. Good. Now pick up the knife. Does the chef always stand this close? I asked, not sure if i liked or feared the flutter his closeness caused inside me. When hes revealing culinary secrets, yes.