Hilt Quotes

Then this is for you," Galahad said, and drew a knife from the pouch at his belt. It was an odd little thing, T-hilted and small enough to fit into a woman's hand. Its translucent blade, only an inch and a half long, was bound with scrolling bronze wire to the bone hilt. "Have a care. Obsidian is sharper than anything else in the world, sharp enough to make sunlight bleed. ~ Suzannah Rowntree

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the name engraved just below the hilt. Godric Gryffindor. "Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry," said Dumbledore simply. ~ J.K. Rowling

Rhoetus was fully awake; he saw all that occurred but was hiding, 345 Watching in fear from behind a huge bowl where the wine had been blended. But he arose as the enemy neared and Euryalus plunged his Blade hilt-deep in his chest, then withdrew. Death came in abundance. Spewing the crimson of life, he returns to the bowl a new mixture: Wine and his blood as he dies. ~ Virgil

Once, when I was a child, I dreamed that Grimbeard the Ghastly, on the deck of his ship The Endless Journey, threw the sword Endeavor up into the air. Up and up it spun, through the inky blackness, across the cavernous span of a hundred years, until, entirely of its own accord, my own left hand sprang out of space and stars and never-ending time and caught it. Now that I am so very old, I am dreaming once again. And in my dream, I am the one throwing the sword. It is spinning now, in the black starlit waters of my dream, right above your head, dear reader. A sword that may look second-best, and secondhand, but but carries the memories of a thousand lost fights, a history lesson in itself. Reach out, and catch it by the hilt. Swear by its name, Endeavor, to do your utmost to make the world a better place than when you arrived in it. For look! There will be dragons all around you, as camouflaged as a Stealth Dragon. ~ Cressida Cowell

Grover yelped. "Percy? Are you . . . um . . ." Crazy. Insane. Off my rocker. Probably. But I watched as Luke grasped the hilt. I stood before him - defenseless. He unlatched the side straps of his armor, exposing a small bit of his skin just under his left arm, a place that would be very hard to hit. With difficulty, he stabbed himself. It wasn't a deep cut, but Luke howled. His eyes glowed like lava. The throne room shook, throwing me off my feet. An aura of energy surrounded Luke, growing brighter and brighter. I shut my eyes and felt a force like a nuclear explosion blister my skin and crack my lips. ~ Rick Riordan

Everything is a matter of interpretation. And that is how you will rule," he said, before handing the sword's hilt to me. "Think on what you've seen today. But do not let me influence you. Your will is yours alone."
I stared at the sword in my hand, still gleaming despite the dark. "I can promise you I won't forget."
Amar paused, his voice soft. "Memory is a riddled thing. I would caution you from making promises you cannot keep."
I moved toward the door, but Amar stopped me with a shake of his head. "Gupta will arrive in a moment to escort you." He straightened the cuffs of his sherwani jacket. "I myself have a number of duties to attend to, so I must leave."
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Why?"
He paused and took a step to me. Darkness, soft-edged and heavy, clung to the room. In the shadows, his smile held all the lazy grace of a cat.
"Would you miss me?"
"Curiosity inspired my question. Nothing more," I said, but even my voice was unconvinced.
"Even so, there's no greater temptation than to stay by your side."
The door swung open and a chorus of voices trickled into the room--silvery and indistinct, like whispers released through clenched teeth. Amar lingered for a moment, his lips tight as though he wanted to say something.
Then, he cupped his palms together and blew into them. When he opened his hands, a bloom of light shaped like an unopened flower bud lifted off his palm and floated into the room. Brightne ~ Roshani Chokshi

You're up to the hilt of your magical dagger in demon guts one minute, then ready to vow forever to an angel swinging a scythe the next." - Emma ~ Before I Wake

In unremarkable texts we soon trip on phrases that penetrate into us, as if a sword has thrust up to its hilt inside us. ~ Nicolas Gomez Davila

The second Amazon they met wasn't so friendly. She was dressed in full armor, blocking the throne-room entrance. She spun her spear with lightning speed, but this time Percy was ready. He drew Riptide and stepped into battle. As the Amazon jabbed at him, he sidestepped, cut her spear shaft in half, and slammed the hilt of his sword against her helmet. The guard crumpled.
"Mars Almighty," Frank said. "How did you - that wasn't any Roman technique!"
Percy grinned. "The graecus has some moves, my friend. ~ Rick Riordan

Whatever period of life we are in is good only to the extent that we make use of it, that we live it to the hilt, that we continue to develop and understand what it has to offer us and what we have to offer it. The rewards for each age are different in kind, but they are not necessarily different in value or in satisfaction. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

True country music is honesty, sincerity, and real life to the hilt. ~ Garth Brooks

Arya.' He looked down the silvery river and then back at Arya, and he gripped the hilt of Brisingr. He was so full of emotion, he trembled. He did not want to leave, but he knew he must. 'Stay with me-'
Her gaze darted up. 'I cannot.'
' ... stay with me until the first curve in the river.'
She hesitated, then nodded. ~ Christopher Paolini

If a ghost was a recording of a memory, as some believed, and Wasp pulled back the curtain from the third alcove on the right, she might find the wide-eyed bloody-handed ghost of herself, hugging her knees and shivering, trying to unremember the sound of her little dagger sinking hilt-deep into girlflesh, the day she earned her name. ~ Nicole Kornher-Stace

ZOS and Scire had a fierce argument as to who had been to the Witches' Sabbath, what the Witches' Sabbath actually was, and so on. Scire drew his magical athame and showed ZOS the strange characters on the hilt. ZOS should have blanched before them but he didn't, saying he "knew all them symbols and more ~ Kenneth Grant

Lynn, open your eyes. I want you to see me," he told her as, with one trust of his hips, he sank home, almost buried to the hilt. ~ Ju Ephraime

The Kel unsheathed their swords, each tinted differently, blank bars of light. Cheris's ran from blue near the hilt to red at the tip. As they closed with the enemy, numbers blazed to life along the lengths of the blades: the day and the hour of your death, as the Kel liked to say. ~ Yoon Ha Lee

Love, he realized, was like the daggers he made in his forge: When you first got one it was shiny and new and the blade glinted bright in the light. Holding it against your palm, you were full of optimism for what it would be like in the field, and you couldn't wait to try it out. Except those first couple of nights out were usually awkward as you got used to it and it got used to you.

Over time, the steel lost its brand-new gleam, and the hilt became stained, and maybe you nicked the shit out of the thing a couple of times. What you got in return, however, saved your life: Once the pair of you were well acquainted, it became such a part of you that it was an extension of your own arm. It protected you and gave you a means to protect your brothers; it provided you with the confidnece and the power to face whatever came out of the night; and wherever you went, it stayed with you, right over your heart, always there when you needed it.

You had to keep the blade up, however. And rewrap the hilt from time to time. And double-check the weight.

Funny...all of that was well, duh when it came to weapons. Why hadn't it dawned on him that matings were the same?

(From the thoughts of Vishous) ~ J.R. Ward

Stay back,"I warned. "Stay away from him." They kept coming. "Stay back!" I yelled. They stopped. Except for one. "Rose," came a soft voice. "Drop the sword." My hands shook. I swallowed. "Get away from us." "Rose." The voice spoke again, a voice that my soul would have known anywhere. Hesitantly, I let myself finally become aware of my surroundings, let the details sink in. I let my eyes focus on the features of the man standing there. Dimitri's brown eyes, gentle and firm, looking down on me. "It's okay," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. You can let go of the sword." My hands shook even harder as I fought to hold on to the hilt. "I can't." The words hurt coming out. "I can't leave him alone. I have to protect him." " you have," said Dimitri. The sword fell out of my hands, landing with a clatter on the wooden floor. I followed, collapsing on all fours, anything to cry but unable to. Dimitri's arms wrapped around me as he helped me up. Voices swarmed around us, and one by one, I recognised people I knew and trusted. ~ Richelle Mead

I see you will have it, Mr. Jettan. I will meet you when and where you will."
Philip patted his sword-hilt.
"I have noticed, Mr. Bancroft, that you habitually don your sword. So I took the precaution of wearing mine. 'When' is now, and 'where' is yonder!" He pointed above the hedge that encircled the garden to the copse beyond. It was a very fine theatrical effect, and he was pleased with it. ~ Georgette Heyer

The power needs truth to work. Truth is reality, the laws of nature. They're inseparable. That relationship is represented by the word woven into the hilt. That makes this sword meant to serve more than just the power. It is also meant to serve the truth. This is the Sword of Truth. ~ Terry Goodkind

Ethan stared at Krysta. A teasing gleam entered his eyes, making Étienne narrow his own as his hackles rose. Offering Krysta a flirtatious grin, Ethan said, "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."
In a heartbeat, Étienne drew a dagger and threw it.
The hilt struck Ethan right in the center of his forehead, snapping his head back. "Ow! Shhhhit! What the hell, man?"
Krysta gaped up at Étienne, who squirmed as everyone at the table stared at him.
He cleared his throat , but didn't know what to say. He hadn't really meant to do that. He had just reacted.
"Oh yeah," Sheldon said. "He has fallen and he has fallen hard. ~ Dianne Duvall

Jess pushed herself up to sit next to him. "In case you didn't get the memo, it' s my turn to take care of you right now." Ike dropped his face into his hands on a groan, and Jess's cool hand massages his neck. "Oh, my God. You're so hot."
He chuffed out a small laugh. "Why, thank you."
Jess Chuckled. "You realize you don't have to fish for compliments, right? Not from me. Because I will straight-up tell you that the sight of your Ravens tat stretched over all these muscles gives me a lady boner." Her fingers traced the design across his shoulder blades - a spread-winged raven perches on the hilt of a dagger sunk into the eye socket of a skull. The block letters of the club's name arched over the menacing black bird.
He threw her some major side-eye. "I know I'm sick because the perverted part of my brain just heard you say my ink gives you a lady boner. ~ Laura Kaye

There is a hollow, holey cylinder running from hilt to point in my machete. When I blow across the mouthpiece in the handle, I make music with my blade. When all the holes are covered, the sound is sad, as rough as rough can be and be called smooth. When all the holes are open, the sound pipes about, bringing to the eye flakes of sun on water, crushed metal. There are twenty holes. And since I've been playing music, I've been called all different kinds of fool - more times than Lobey, which is my name. ~ Samuel R. Delany

…What it means is you will fight until you're all used up. Far from being sour, life is so sweet you will live it to the hilt and be consumed by it. ~ Thomas Berger

The others saw him as he stumbled down the stairs, bleeding from nose and ears and eyes an mouth. The sheathed form of the Sword lay across his palms. He met their eyes, and choked out:

"Remember. Remember, all of you."

Mathilda's voice was infinitely gentle. "Remember what?"

"That I was a man, before I was King. Remember for me, when I forget.

His hand closed on the black double-lobed hilt, and the moonfire in the opal glowed. He drew the Sword, thrust it high.

And screamed as pain beyond all bearing ripped through him like white fire, turning his body to a thing of ash smoke.

He screamed, and knew. ~ S.M. Stirling

Thank you," I managed to say.

Replying with a nod, he approached my horse. "Here, let me help you - "

I slipped down myself before he could lend a hand, keeping the fur hide in my possession. "I'm not suddenly incapable because I wear a dress, Thaddeus."

"I wasn't suggesting…." Wisely, he let the issue drop.

Lifting an arm, he offered it to me. That's when I noticed my sword in sheath belted to his waist.

"That's mine!" I declared, reaching for the hilt.

Thaddeus managed a quick side-step. He hardened his jaw at my look of incredulity. I would only wait momentarily for an explanation.

"I know the sword is yours, Catherine, everyone knows that. But you're too beautiful tonight to ruin that radiant look with an ugly, leather belt strapped about you."

I was starting to think the man was using compliments as a weapon to defend himself against me. It did work to temper my anger somewhat.

"I brought the sword as a cautionary act, just in case those nasty werewolves show up. Seeing how I'll be standing beside you all evening, the blade will be at your disposal if needed."

I accepted his reasoning and stood down.

"Besides," Thaddeus added, apparently feeling safe, "what's yours is mine now anyway."

I glared at the fool. "That works both ways, you know."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "If it must."

Again, he offered me his arm wh ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Whenever I play a role, whether it's good or bad, an evil person or nice person, I believe in being a purist and going all the way with the role. If I'm going to be a villainous wrestler, I believe in going all the way with it and not breaking character and not giving away to the audience that I'm playing a role. I believe in playing it straight to the hilt. ~ Andy Kaufman

Dalinar took one step forward, then drove his Blade point-first into the middle of the blackened glyph on the stone. He took a step back. "For the bridgemen," he said.
Sadeas blinked. Muttering voices fell silent, and the people on the field seemed too stunned, even, to breathe.
"What?"Sadeas asked.
"The Blade,"Dalinar said, firm voice carrying in the air. "In exchange for your bridgemen. All of them. Every one you have in camp. They become mine, to do with as I please, never to be touched by you again. In exchange, you get the sword."
Sadeas looked down at the Blade, incredulous. "This weapon is worth fortunes. Cities, palaces, kingdoms."
"Do we have a deal?"Dalinar asked.
"Father, no!"Adolin Kholin said, his own Blade appearing in his hand. "You - "
Dalinar raised a hand, silencing the younger man. He kept his eyes on Sadeas. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, each word sharp.
Kaladin stared, unable to move, unable to think.
Sadeas looked at the Shardblade, eyes full of lust. He glanced at Kaladin, hesitated just briefly, then reached and grabbed the Blade by the hilt. "Take the storming creatures."
Dalinar nodded curtly, turning away from Sadeas. "Let's go,"he said to his entourage.
"They're worthless, you know,"Sadeas said. "You're of the ten fools, Dalinar Kholin! Don't you see how mad you are? This will be remembered as the most ridiculous decision ever made by an Alethi highprince!"
Dalinar didn't look back. ~ Brandon Sanderson

I began to realize that for two years my life had been a drawing on resources that I did not possess, that I had been mortgaging myself physically and spiritually up to the hilt. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

Savage Sam Tarly, whose sword, Heartsbane, was said to be red from hilt to point after the dozens of Dornishmen he cut down in the course of the Vulture Hunt, as the chase after the Vulture King became known. ~ George R R Martin

You listened for the rapping on the door, which might come in the early hours of the morning, and tried to think if there was anything you had missed. You went upstairs again and checked the shelves and made sure that any entries in the telephone book had been scratched out. It was impossible to live without leaving clues. Suddenly, as if a knife was buried in you up to the hilt, you yearned for life in an ordinary country, ordinary happiness and unhappiness. ~ Imraan Coovadia

I miss talking to you, Fallen."
"That's too bad. I don't ever miss anything about you."
"You're fun." His eyes sparkled like sunlit gems. "You're never afraid to go tit for tat with me."
"I don't want anything to do with your tits or tats."
He laughed again, his eyes darkening back to brown.


"Did we really just get beat up by that little Junior Guardian?"
"If anyone asks we'll say that there were fifty of them."
I touched my cheek and hissed. "Goddamn ninja punk."
"I feel terrible and I don't mean my wounded ego. I feel really bad." He groaned and rolled to his side, not moving from the floor. "I can't believe we just got our asses handed to us by a goddamn Jonas-brother wannabe."
"He had the hilt piece. Did you see it?"
"No, I was too busy crying like a girl. ~ Cori Moore

His muscles glistened, wet as if he'd just swum a great distance. To his side, he carried a massive Shardblade, point down, sticking about a finger's width into the stone, his hand on the hilt. The Blade reflected torchlight; it was long, narrow, and straight, shaped like an enormous spike. ~ Brandon Sanderson

It was almost a mystical experience. I do not know how else to put it. My mind outran time as he neared, and it was as though I had an eternity to ponder the approach of this man who was my brother. His garments were filthy, his face blackened, the stump of his right arm raised, gesturing anywhere. The great beast that he rode was striped, black and red, with a wild red mane and tail. But it really was a horse, and its eyes rolled and there was foam at its mouth and its breathing was painful to hear. I saw then that he wore his blade slung across his back, for its haft protruded high above his right shoulder. Still slowing, eyes fixed upon me, he departed the road, bearing slightly toward my left, jerked the reins once and released them, keeping control of the horse with his knees. His left hand went up in a salute-like movement that passed above his head and seized the hilt of his weapon. It came free without a sound, describing a beautiful arc above him and coming to rest in a lethal position out from his left shoulder and slanting back, like a single wing of dull steel with a minuscule line of edge that gleamed like a filament of mirror. The picture he presented was burned into my mind with a kind of magnificence, a certain splendor that was strangely moving. The blade was a long, scythe like affair that I had seen him use before. Only then we had stood as allies against a mutual foe I had begun to believe unbeatable. Benedict had proved otherwise that night. Now that I sa ~ Roger Zelazny

The steel reddens, warming under Cal's fiery touch, and bits of the gilded hilt melt between his fingers. Gold and silver and iron, dripping from his hands like tears. ~ Victoria Aveyard

Milla put her hands on his ribs, holding on as he braced his weight on one arm while with his other hand he guided his penis to her and in the same rough motion pushed deep inside.
He froze in place, his breath panting between his parted lips as they stared at each other. She couldn't move; the feel of him inside her was too sharp, almost painful in its intensity. Their gazes met in the mellow lamplight, and she was mesmerized by the tension in his face, the way his steely muscles were locked as if he didn't dare move. It built and built, that clawing need, and yet she remained poised on the razor's edge of something she knew she couldn't control. His chest suddenly heaved on a convulsive breath, and he moved in a long, deep stroke that took him all the way to the hilt. ~ Linda Howard

If you call them a sin against nature again, I will end you." Ethan's hand was on his dagger's hilt. "Look who's a born-again Guardian evangelist now." Connor laughed. "What's up with that?" A blush slid up Ethan's neck. "Nothing. They're our allies. That's all." "Sure it is." Conner said. ~ Andrea Cremer

Yeah," he managed when Shane was in up to the hilt, but the man didn't give him a second to breathe before he began to pump, hitting Reed's prostate in a way that demanded he yell. "More, Shane. I want more." "I know. I've been told I can corrupt anyone," Shane said easily. Reed laughed as he came, Keith snorted, and they were both in deep with this one. ~ S.E. Jakes

I've climbed up here holding the hilt of time's sword by driving it into my tender heart. ~ Suman Pokhrel

Will Hilt to hand yet be restored? Take me up, thy mother's sword. ~ Catherynne M Valente

Let us be just, my friends! What a splendid destiny for a nation to be the Empire of such an Emperor, when that nation is France and when it adds its own genius to the genius of that man! To appear and to reign, to march and to triumph, to have for halting-places all capitals, to take his grenadiers and to make kings of them, to decree the falls of dynasties, and to transfigure Europe at the pace of a charge; to make you feel that when you threaten you lay your hand on the hilt of the sword of God; to follow in a single man, Hannibal, Caesar, Charlemagne; to be the people of some one who mingles with your dawns the startling announcement of a battle won, to have the cannon of the Invalides to rouse you in the morning, to hurl into abysses of light prodigious words which flame forever, Marengo, Arcola, Austerlitz, Jena, Wagram! To cause constellations of victories to flash forth at each instant from the zenith of the centuries, to make the French Empire a pendant to the Roman Empire, to be the great nation and to give birth to the grand army, to make its legions fly forth over all the earth, as a mountain sends out its eagles on all sides to conquer, to dominate, to strike with lightning, to be in Europe a sort of nation gilded through glory, to sound athwart the centuries a trumpet-blast of Titans, to conquer the world twice, by conquest and by dazzling, that is sublime; and what greater thing is there?"

"To be free," said Combeferre. ~ Victor Hugo

Court played his role to the hilt now, cocking his head as if he were wondering if the person asking the question might possibly be mentally deranged. "The CIA? You think I bought my way free of the Agency? I fucking shot my way out, pal." He rolled his eyes. "Pay off the CIA? They don't need me to pay them off. They are part of the U.S. federal government, the guys that print U.S. dollars, or didn't you know?" Dai asked his next question in a flat, emotionless voice. "Did you arrive in a Dassault Falcon yesterday? ~ Mark Greaney

Never be afraid to meet to the hilt the demand of either work, or friendship - two of life's major assets. ~ Eleanor Robson Belmont

Bones, Catelyn thought. This is not Ned, this is not the man I loved, the father of my children. His hands were clasped together over his chest, skeletal fingers curled about the
hilt of some longsword, but they were not Ned's hands, so strong and full of life. They had dressed the bones in Ned's surcoat, the fine white velvet with the direwolf badge over the
heart, but nothing remained of the warm flesh that had pillowed her head so many
nights, the arms that had held her. ~ George R R Martin

Just when she was about to scream with frustration he flexed his hips and slid inside her. Her body welcomed him as he buried himself to the hilt. She let out a broken little sob, almost tearful over how good it felt to be filled by him, how hard and thick and hot he felt inside her.
He started to move, and within seconds she'd found his rhythm. Every clumsy sexual encounter she'd ever had, every second of self-consciousness over her body or her own needs, every doubt she'd ever experienced went out the window as she gave herself over to the moment. ~ Sarah Mayberry

This is Truth-Teller...I has never failed me once...Some people say it has magic and will always strike true. He gentle took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. It will serve you well. ~ Sarah J. Maas

Okay, don't get mad." She pulled out my stake
or at least something that looked like my stake,only the hilt of it was now covered in bright blue crystals and diamond-like gems.
"You Bedazzled my stake?"
"Um ... Surprise," April said, "Just because you're hunting nasty stuff doesn't mean you can't do it in style. ~ Bree Despain

Well, he's scraping up what there is. Reckon we'll need every ready hand when it comes to a battle. Yours too, maybe.'
'Oh, you'll have to hold me back!' Calder slapped the hilt of his sword. 'Can't wait to get started!'
'You ever even drawn the fucking thing?' sneered Tenways, stretching his neck out to spit again.
'Just the once. I had to trim your daughter's hairy cunt before I could get at it. ~ Joe Abercrombie

I gave him my best cryptic smile.
He grimaced. "What have you found out?" he asked.
"I'm not at liberty to tell you that." Not with the Pack suspect.
He leaned forward more, letting the moonlight fall on his face. His gaze was direct and difficult to hold. Our stares locked and I gritted my teeth. Five seconds into the conversation and he was already giving me the alpha-stare. If he started clicking his teeth, I'd have to make a run for it. Or introduce him to my sword.
"You will tell me what you know now," he said.
"Or?"
He said nothing, so I elaborated. "See, this kind of threat usually has an 'or' attached to it. Or an 'and.' 'Tell me and I'll allow you to live' or something like that."
His eyes ignited with gold. His gaze was unbearable now.
"I can make you beg to tell me everything you know," he said and his voice was a low growl. It sent icy fingers of terror down my spine.
I gripped Slayer's hilt until it hurt. The golden eyes were burning into my soul. "I don't know," I heard my own voice say, "you look kinda out of shape to me. How long has it been since you took care of your own dirty work?"
His right hand twitched. Muscles boiled under the taut skin and fur burst, sheathing the arm. Claws slid from thickened fingers. The hand snapped inhumanly fast. I weaved back and it fanned my face, leaving no scars. A strand of hair fell onto my left cheek, severed from my braid. The claws retracted.
"I think I still rememb ~ Ilona Andrews

Sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it. ~ George R R Martin

Tenways showed his rotten teeth. 'Fucking make me.'
'I'll give it a try.' A man came strolling out of the dark, just his sharp jaw showing in the shadows of his hood, boots crunching heedless through the corner of the fire and sending a flurry of sparks up around his legs. Very tall, very lean and he looked like he was carved out of wood. He was chewing meat from a chicken bone in one greasy hand and in the other, held loose under the crosspiece, he had the biggest sword Beck had ever seen, shoulder-high maybe from point to pommel, its sheath scuffed as a beggar's boot but the wire on its hilt glinting with the colours of the fire-pit. He sucked the last shred of meat off his bone with a noisy slurp, and he poked at all the drawn steel with the pommel of his sword, long grip clattering against all those blades. 'Tell me you lot weren't working up to a fight without me. You know how much I love killing folk. I shouldn't, but a man has to stick to what he's good at. So how's this for a recipe…' He worked the bone around between finger and thumb, then flicked it at Tenways so it bounced off his chain mail coat. 'You go back to fucking sheep and I'll fill the graves.'
Tenways licked his bloody top lip. 'My fight ain't with you, Whirrun.'
And it all came together. Beck had heard songs enough about Whirrun of Bligh, and even hummed a few himself as he fought his way through the logpile. Cracknut Whirrun. How he'd been given the Father of Swords. How he'd killed his f ~ Joe Abercrombie

Above all, he liked it that everything was one's own fault. There was only oneself to praise or blame. Luck was a servant and not a master. Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or taken advantage of up to the hilt. But it had to be understood and recognized for what it was and not confused with a faulty appreciation of the odds, for, at gambling, the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck. And luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared ~ Ian Fleming

Nathaniel first stared at the vampiric Moses and then at the bizarre door. Numerous symbols had been carved deep in the surface and instead of square edges, they were rounded. Daniel then drew a dagger from his coat and proceeded to stand directly in front of the door. As he neared it, one could swear that the surface rippled like oil in a vat while he grazed it with the dagger. Quite suddenly, he jammed the blade in the very center of the door up to the very hilt. A high-pitched grunt followed and then a series of mechanical noises and clangs chimed and clicked until the door skid back two inches and descended into the ground. ~ J.D. Estrada

We'll have to fix your shoulder first," MacRuairi said. He turned him around, grabbing hold of the top of his arm. He handed Arthur his dagger. "Ready?"
Arthur put the wooden hilt between his teeth and nodded. The pain was extreme but quick. After a moment, he was able to roll his shoulder freely in the socket. "You've done that before?" Arthur said.
"Nay," MacRuairi said, a rare smile on his face. "But I've seen it done. I guess you're lucky I'm a quick study. ~ Monica McCarty

Mia stood between the bed and the broken window, holding an active plasma blade at waist-height in front of her. A thick coat of blood stained the plasma nearly from hilt to tip, hissing as it dribbled from blade to floor.

"Are you all right?"

Mia gave her a wan, distant smile. "It's okay. I've done it before. ~ G.S. Jennsen

I come in peace,' Sorrow drawled, offering him the knife hilt-first. 'This was just in case I met anyone I didn't like on the way. ~ A.F.E. Smith

Do you carry a dagger, Your Highness?"
Raisa nodded. "I do, as a rule, but Micah and Fiona took mine."
"Then take this one." He wiped the blade on his breeches, returned the blade to a sheath at his waist, then unbuckled the belt, handing the whole package to her. Raisa slid the blade free, turning it so it caught the light. It was of the same make and design as the Lady sword, with the image of Hanalea worked into the hilt.
"I can't take this!" She protested. "It belongs to your family."
"I've not much use for it, in fact," Byrne replied. "If I let an enemy get close enough to need it, I deserve what I get. ~ Cinda Williams Chima

I need to know you believe me when I say I love you. That is all."
"I believe everything you say," Tessa said with a smile, her hands creeping doen from his waist to his weapons belt. Her fingers closed on the hilt of the dagger, and she yanked it from the belt, smiling as he looked down at her in surprise. "After all," she said, "you weren't lying about the tattoo of the dragon of Wales, were you? ~ Cassandra Clare

Tain Shir walks the deck of RNS Sulane between the bombs and incendiaries and steel-tipped barbs. A weapon among weapons but she alone is free. The tragedy of the knife is the hilt. The tragedy of the crossbow is the trigger. Shir has neither. She cannot be gripped nor fired.
She is unmastered.
The sailors are rude with her. So be it. Etiquitte is the domain of those whose power is conditional upon the respect of others, and Shir is unconditional. If she drifted alone in the void beyond the moon or if she walked among the monarchs of the ancient Cheetah Palaces she would not be altered in her capabilities or her intentions, for not one truth of her resides within a relationship to any other thing. ~ Seth Dickinson

Give me the gun." Michael put a hand out, his voice soft.
Tension rode on the sunlight as she listened to Hunter's breathing shake.
"It's okay," said Michael. "You don't want to do this."
Inch by inch, Hunter lowered the gun into Michael's palm, finally letting go.
Michael didn't move. "You alright?"
Hunter nodded.
"Good." Michael wrapped his hand around the hilt.
Then he lifted it, cocked the hammer, and put the barrel against Hunter's forehead. "Now where the f*** are my brothers? ~ Brigid Kemmerer

Emeth came walking forward into the open strip of grass between the bonfire and the Stable. His eyes were shining, his face was solemn, his hand was on his sword-hilt, and he carried his head high. Jill felt like crying when she looked at his face. And Jewel whispered in the King's ear, By the Lion's Mane, I almost love this young warrior, Calormene though he be. He is worthy of a better god than Tash. ~ C.S. Lewis

God has had His chance to free me, and for reasons known to Him alone, He has pinned me to ill fortune, and although I have struggled, I am run through and through with disaster; I am knifed to the hilt with fate. ~ Hannah Kent

What was I thinking?" Chiron cried. " I can't let you get away without this."
He pulled a pen from his coat pocket. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably thirty cents.
Gee," I said. "Thanks."
Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the profecy is clear to me now. You are the one.
I remembered the feild trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I'd vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be...?
I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather=wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in my hands.
The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told me. "It's name is Anaklusmos."
Riptide," I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.
Use it only for emergencies" Chiron said, "and only against monsters No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case. ~ Rick Riordan

The reputation is not essentially built by earning too much, learning too many things, achieving awards, bagging rewards or catapulting position to the hilt; but by unquestionably staying simple, humble , well grounded and doing nothing that makes own conscience to feel guilt. ~ Anuj

The Nolan's just could't get enough of life. They lived their own lives up to the hilt but that wasn't enough. They had to fill in on the lives of all the people they made contact with. ~ Betty Smith

Though the fact that they have to be rebuilt And frequently mortgaged to the hilt Is inclined to take the gilt Off the gingerbread, And certainly damps the fun Of the eldest son. ~ Noel Coward

Wow," Puck mused, standing beside me. "The River of Dreams." ... Moons, comets and constellations rippled on the surface, and other, stranger things floated upon the misty black waters. Petals and book pages, butterfly wings and silver medals. The hilt of a sword stuck out of the water at an odd angle, the silver blade tangled with ribbons and spiderwebs. A coffin bobbed to the surface, covered in dead lilies, before sinking into the depths once more. The debris of human imaginations, floating through the dark waters of dream and nightmare. ~ Julie Kagawa

That Archangel, now, " Miriam continued; "how fair he looks, with his unruffled wings, with his unhacked sword, and clad in his bright armor, and that exquisitely fitting sky-blue tunic, cut in the latest Paradisiacal mode! What a dainty air of the first celestial society! With what half-scornful delicacy he sets his prettily sandaled foot on the head of his prostrate foe! But, is it thus that virtue looks the moment after its death struggle with evil? No, no; I could have told Guido better. A full third of the Archangel's feathers should have been torn from his wings; the rest all ruffled, till they looked like Satan's own! His sword should be streaming with blood, and perhaps broken half-way to the hilt; his armor crushed, his robes rent, his breast gory; a bleeding gash on his brow, cutting right across the stern scowl of battle! He should press his foot down upon the old serpent, as if his very soul depended upon it, feeling him squirm mightily, and doubting whether the fight were half over yet, and how the victory might turn! And, with all this fierceness, this grimness, this unutterable horror, there should be something high, tender, and holy in Michael's eyes, and around his mouth. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Don't wish to be normal. Wish to be yourself. To the hilt. Find out what you're best at, and develop it, and hopscotch your weaknesses. Wish to be great at whatever you are. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

But as they walked home together through the leaf-plastered streets, under that eerie refulgence, her father seemed to have divined her plans. This was in his manner, not his words: they were halfway home before he spoke. "Amanda," he said. He paused. "I want you to realize the consequences before you do something youll be sorry for." He did not look at her, and she too kept her eyes to the front. "You know that when I say a thing I mean it - I mean it to the hilt. So tell your young man this, Amanda. Tell him that the day you marry without my consent I'll cut you off without a dime. Without so much as one thin dime, Amanda. I'll cut you off, disown you, and what is more I'll never regret it. I'll never so much as think your name again." Up to now he had spoken slowly, pausing between phrases. But now the words came fast, like fencing thrusts. "Tell your young man that, Amanda, and see what he says." Major ~ Shelby Foote

Doubt – all a Gansey did was doubt. A Gansey reached bravely into the night-blind water, fate uncertain until the hilt of a sword pressed into a hopeful palm.
Except – only a few months before, this Gansey had reached into the dark uncertainty of the future, stretching for the promise of a sword, and had instead pulled out a mirror. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Good." Michael wrapped his hand around the hilt.
Then he lifted it, cocked the hammer, and put the barrel against Hunter's forehead. "Now where the fuck are my brothers? ~ Brigid Kemmerer

He drew in a shaky breath. "How can you ask me to let you die?" he choked, still keeping the blade at the prince's throat. A thread of blood formed under the knife, and ran down to Ash's collar. "I'd do anything for you, Meghan. Just ... not that. Not that."
Gently, I reached up and closed my fingers around the knife hilt, easing it down and away from Ash's neck. Puck resisted for a moment, then stepped back with a sob. The dagger fell from his grip and clanged to the floor. ~ Julie Kagawa

He looked so strange without his guns.
So wrong.
'Okay? Now that the numb-fuck apprentices have the guns and the master's unarmed, can we please go? If something big comes out of the bush at us, Roland, you can always throw your knife at it.'
'Oh, that,' he murmured. 'I almost forgot.' He took the knife from his purse and held it out, hilt first, to Eddie.
'This is ridiculous!' Eddie shouted.
'Life is ridiculous.'
'Yeah, put it on a postcard and send it to the fucking Reader's Digest.' Eddie jammed the knife into his belt and then looked defiantly at Roland. 'Now can we go?'
'There is one more thing,' Roland said.
'Weeping, creeping Jesus!'
The smile touched Roland's mouth again. 'Just joking,' he said.
Eddie's mouth dropped open. Beside him, Susannah began to laugh again. The sound rose, as musical as bells, in the morning stillness. ~ Stephen King

All iron comes from stars," Seeker replied, her hand still not quite brushing the hilt of the blade. "It's the last element they can burn before they go nova. Iron's the skeletons of stars, and it's what makes our blood red. I ~ Elizabeth Bear

Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.
"Here, sir," said Peter.
"These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well." With these words he handed to Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips and blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."
Last of all he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is a cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow on the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this will restore them. And the dagge ~ C.S. Lewis

Who claims I am ruined ? Because I am without fangs & claws ?
Are they necessary ? How do you forget the knife
plunged in abdomen up to the hilt ? Green Cardamom leaves for the buck, art of hatred & anger
and of war ! ~ Malay Roy Choudhury

We shall play every game to the hilt with every ounce of fiber we have in our bodies. ~ Vince Lombardi

Tlaloci's head exploded in a shower of brains and bone. The pieces rained down on me, and the body fell to one side, obsidian blade scraping along the stone floor as the hand convulsed around the hilt. I stared across the cave and saw Olaf standing at the foot of the stone steps. He was still standing in his shooting stance, one-handed, gun still pointed at where the priest had been standing. He blinked, and I watched the concentration leave his face, watched something close to human spill across his face. He started walking towards me, gun at his side. The other hand held a knife, bloody to the hilt. I was wiping Tlaloci's brains off my face when Olaf came to stand in front of me. "I never thought I'd say this, but damn I'm glad to see you." He actually smiled. "I saved your life." That made me smile. "I know." Ramirez ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes and froze. Her expression was so open, so full of tenderness and longing as well as heat that he almost balked. This was supposed to be about closure, about having the goodbye they'd never gotten last time. How was he supposed to leave after if she gave herself to him this completely? Her hand came up to cradle the side of his face, her thumb stroking back and forth across his jaw, her touch gentle and loving. "Need you," she murmured,

It was good. Even better than he remembered. Liam buried his face in the side of her neck and sucked in a breath, struggling to hang on. Being cradled in Honor's arms, buried to the hilt inside her while she opened her body and heart to him was the most incredible thing in the world. How the f*&^ was he going to walk away later? Without warning his eyes began to sting. As though she sensed how close he was to coming unglued, Honor murmured to him and pressed kisses to the side of his face, her hand urging his head to turn toward her. Liam shook his head, unable to bear that final level of intimacy when he knew this was their last time. Keeping his face in her neck he fought back the swell of emotion and began to move, a slow, shallow rocking motion that was more profound than words could ever be. He loved her. Would always love her, but it wasn't enough because some things couldn't be undone and he just couldn't let her in the way he had before. All they had left was this bittersw ~ Kaylea Cross

She looked from the hilt protruding between her breasts into the eyes of the boy she loved. The golden light in them enfolded her and her heart stopped beating, leaving the ghost of her smile on her mouth. Her vacant eyes mirrored something infinitely close to peace. ~ Farrah Naseem

In what world did you think you could get away with this?" Jalal seethed. "To my cousin? To my family?" His gleaming hilt continued its punishing onslaught. ~ Renee Ahdieh

But as I stood across from Archer, I couldn't forget that I was completely, stupidly in love with the one person I could never have.
The laughter died on my lips, and I dashed at my eyes with the back of my hand. "I need to get back," I said.
"Right," he replied. He was still holding his sword in his right hand, and he twirled the hilt, the point sratching the wooden floor. "So this is it. We're done."
"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat. "And I have to say, the world's first and last Eye-demon reconnaissance mission went pretty well." It was a struggle to meet his eyes, but I managed it. "Thank you."
He shrugged, his dark gaze full of something I couldn't quite read. "We were a good team."
"We were." In more ways than one, I thought. Which is why this sucked so bad.
I stepped back. "Anyway, I should go. See ya,Cross." Then I laughed, only it sounded suspiciously like another sob. "Except I won't, will I So I guess I should say goodbye." I felt like I was about to shatter into a million tiny shards, like the mirrors I'd broken with Dad. "okay, well, best of luck with the whole Eye thing, then. Try not to kill anyone I know." I turned away, but he reached out and caught my wrist.
I could feel my pulse hammering under his fingers. "Mercer, that day in the cellar..." He searched my face, and I could sense him struggling for what he wanted to say. Then finally, "I didn't kiss you back because I had to. I kissed you because I w ~ Rachel Hawkins

If you are dressing up, then dress to the hilt, else let it go easy. But no matter what, pay attention to the nails. Whether you keep it short, long, varnished or plain, it has to look good. ~ Sonam Kapoor

Get your priorities straight, young man. When a victim is staring at a blade that has just plunged through his chest, the last thing on his mind is criticism about the lack of ornamentation on your hilt. ~ Terry Goodkind

If in the paddock the owner is surrounded by a herd of young children, don't back his horse. But if the owner is accompanied by a beautiful lady, plunge to the hilt. ~ Robert Morley

I thought of the words the old witch had used to summon the sword on previous occasions. While stepping backwards with the intent of putting the table between Thaddeus and myself, I voiced the spell aloud.

"Grim dettarias, ee Duvalla swen areir!"

My trusted weapon appeared from out of nowhere, the hilt grasped tight within my fingers. Without delay, I pointed the tip of the blade at my enemy.

"Move away from the door and let me leave this place."

"Oh, Catherine…"

"Don't breathe that wicked name again!" I angrily ordered. Thaddeus closed his mouth, and his eyes scrunched the slightest bit, never shifting from me.

"I'll cut out your tongue if you mutter that awful name one more time," I threatened. I interpreted his frown as a sign that he believed I would make every effort to carry out that threat.

Using the sword as an extension of my arm, I gestured with a flick of the wrist, signaling for the swine standing between me and freedom to move aside and clear the exit. He failed to comply. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

And suddenly a shaft of blinding silver-white light three feet long sprang from the broken hilt of Fidelacchius and shone in the first golden light of that day's dawn, humming with the full power of the Sword, only louder now, more melodic, and physically audible. ~ Jim Butcher

Blood trickled from the corner of her (Annabeth) mouth. She croaked, "Family, Luke. You promised."
Luke stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, the blood on her face. "Promise." Then he gasped like he couldn't get air. "Annabeth . . ." But it wasn't the Titan's voice. It was Luke's. He stumbled forward like he couldn't control his own body. "You're bleeding. . . ." He gasped again."He's changing. Help. He's . . . he's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please - "
"The knife, Percy," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero . . . cursed blade . . ."
Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands."Please, Percy . . ."
Luke seemed to know what I was thinking. He moistened his lips. "You can't . . . can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can . . . can keep him controlled."
I raised the knife to strike. Then I looked at Annabeth, at Grover. And I finally understood what she'd been trying to tell me. You are not the hero, Rachel had said. It will affect what you do. The line from the great prophecy echoed in my head: A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. My whole world tipped upside down,and I gave the knife to Luke.I watched as Luke grasped the hilt he stabbed himself ~ Rick Riordan

Eena!"
Recognizing Ian's voice, Eena turned to find him approaching her from behind. He was entirely clad in body armor and gauntlets, cradling an open-faced helmet in one arm. Painted on his chest plate was a flaming, gold sword. From his side hung a leather sheath, a golden hilt peeking from the top.
"I'm glad you're back. You are going to stay and watch us play, aren't you?" He looked hopeful she'd say yes.
Eena smiled brightly. "I didn't know you were talented enough to be on a dueling team. Nice sword," she teased.
Ian blushed a degree. "Thanks. They call us the Savage Warriors!" He rasped their team name in a semi-ferocious voice. "Jerin's team captain."
She laughed at the showy designation. "And who's your challenger today?"
"The Dragon Slayers - Derian's team."
Eena's face fell. "Derian is playing?" She groaned internally, knowing she should've guessed as much. This was starting to look like another setup. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I was Uhtred, Lord of Bebbanburg, in my war-glory. The arm rings of fallen enemies glinted on my forearms, my shield was newly painted with the snarling wolf's head of my house, while another wolf, this one of silver, crouched on the crest of my polished helmet. My mail was tight, polished with sand, my sword belt and scabbard and bridle and saddle were studded with silver, there was a gold chain at my neck, my boots were panelled with silver, my drawn sword was grey with the whorls of its making running from the hilt to its hungry tip. I was the lord of war mounted on a great black horse, and together we would make panic. ~ Bernard Cornwell

The last werewolf tripped over Raphael Santiago's foot. Alec hastily hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of his seraph blade, and the werewolf stayed down.
"That was an accident," said Raphael, with Lily and Elliott sticking close behind him. "He got in my way as I was trying to leave."
"Okay," Alec panted.
He wiped dust and sweat out of his eyes. Bat the DJ staggered toward them, claws out, and Alec flipped his seraph blade so he was holding the hilt again.
"Someone dropped a piece of roof on me," Bat told him, blinking in a way that was more owlish than wolfish. "Inconsiderate."
Alec realized Bat was not so much on a murderous out-of-control rampage as mildly concussed.
"Easy there," he said, as Bat tumbled against his chest.
He looked around for the most trustworthy person, for someone to be on his team. He took a gamble and dumped Bat into Lily's arms.
"Watch him for me, will you?" he asked. "Make sure he gets out all right."
"Put that werewolf down immediately, Lily," Raphael ordered.
"It really hurts that you would say that," Bat muttered, and shut his eyes.
Lily considered Bat's head, pillowed on her lavender bosom. "I don't want to put him down," she announced. "The Shadowhunter gave this DJ to me."
Bat opened one eye. "Do you like music?"
"I do," said Lily. "I like jazz."
"Cool," said Bat.
Raphael threw up his hands. "This is ridiculous! Fine," he snapped. "Fine. Let's just vacate th ~ Cassandra Clare

Benedictine spirituality, after all,
is life lived to the hilt.
It is a life of concentration
on life's ordinary dimensions.
It is an attempt to do
the ordinary things of life
extraordinarily well. ~ Joan D. Chittister

Has it ever occurred to you, Master Ninefingers, that a sword is different from other weapons? Axes and maces and so forth are lethal enough, but they hang on the belt like dumb brutes." He ran an eye over the hilt, plain cold metal scored with faint grooves for a good grip, glinting in the torchlight. "But a sword... a sword has a voice."

"Eh?"

"Sheathed it has little to say, to be sure, but you need only put your hand on the hilt and it begins to whisper in your enemy's ear." He wrapped his fingers tightly round the grip. "A gentle warning. A word of caution. Do you hear it?"

Logen nodded slowly. "Now," murmured Bayaz, "compare it to the sword half drawn." A foot length of metal hissed out of the sheath, a single silver letter shining near the hilt. The blade itself was dull, but its edge had a cold and frosty glint. "It speaks louder, does it not? It hisses a dire threat. It makes a deadly promise. Do you hear it?"

Logen nodded again, his eye fastened on that glittering edge. "Now compare it to the sword full drawn." Bayaz whipped the long blade from its sheath with a faint ringing sound, brought it up so that the point hovered inches from Logen's face. "It shouts now, does it not? It screams defiance! It bellows a challenge! Do you hear it?"

"Mmm," said Logen, leaning back and staring slightly crosseyed at the shining point of the sword.

Bayaz let it drop and slid it gently back into its scabbard, something ~ Joe Abercrombie

I know you're still awake." "Good for you. Shut up and go to sleep." Another snicker. "What you have to ask yourself," he continued, "is whether I'm the type who would stay awake long enough to kill you after you fall asleep, or if I'm an early riser who would kill you before you wake up." "If you want your head to stay on your neck, you'd better be neither," I growled, though his words sent a cold spear of dread through my stomach. My hands tightened on my sword hilt, and Jackal laughed somewhere in the darkness, unseen. "I'm just kidding, sis," he said. "Or am I? Something to think about, before you fall asleep. Nighty-night, then. Sleep tight. ~ Julie Kagawa

Myron was playing Mr. Bureaucrat to the hilt; nothing made a person feel more impotent. There is no darker pit than the blank stare of a bureaucrat. ~ Harlan Coben

I would wear pink because I knew my future was anything but rosy. I would accessorize myself to the hilt, and I would wear flirty shoes because my world needed more beauty to counter all the ugliness in it. I would wear pink because I hated gray, I didn't deserve white, and I was sick of black. ~ Karen Marie Moning

May I help you?" Keegan asked, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"You may or you may not, as it is your decision. However, I would like some information, unless you should not give it to me," the elder stated quickly and in a kind voice. ~ Kathryn Fogleman

And yet here he was, looking at Jem Carstairs, a boy so fragile-looking that he appeared to be made out of glass, with the hardness of his expression slowly dissolving into tentative uncertainty. "You are not really dying," he said, the oddest tone to his voice, "are you?"
Jem nodded. "So they tell me."
"I am sorry," Will said.
"No", Jem said softly. He drew his jacket aside and took a knife from the belt at his waist. "Don't be ordinary like that. Don't say you're sorry. Say you'll train with me."
He held the knife to Will, hilt first. Charlotte held her breath, afraid to move. She felt as if she were watching something very important happen, though she could not have said what.
Will reached out and took the knife, his eyes never leaving Jem's face. His fingers brushed the other boy's as he took the weapon from him. It was the first time, Charlotte thought that she had ever seen him touch any other person willingly.
"I'll train with you," he said. ~ Cassandra Clare

I touched Thor's hammer, then Serpent-Breath's hilt, for death was stalking us. God help me, I thought, touching the hammer again, Thor help us all, for I did not think we could win. ~ Bernard Cornwell