As they spoke, the only thing I could think about was that scene from Julius Caesar where Brutus stabs him in the back. Et tu, Eric?

I wouldn’t be comfortable, but at least I’d have marginal protection against pointy steel objects that went stab in the night.

Mr. Williquosi, I didn’t mean to stab you in your gums with your fork. I was merely trying to spoon-feed you information.

Every heart needs a cutting part sharper than a blade to stab agony

We got into an argument over the color of love. I said it was pink, and he said it was red. So you see, I had no other choice but to stab him.

I’ll stab you with a pointy thingy. Not a sword, a knife, or even a mountaintop. No, I’ll use my index finger—and just to make a point about violence.

This guy looks like Humphrey Bogart with a beard. Makes me so jealous I could just stab him. And I would too, if I didn’t suspect him of holding a smoking gun.

He was born after me, and he died before me. I gave him life, and I killed him. He was an idea, and considerably harder to stab than grandpa.

I had a dream about you. You tried to stab me with the pointy end of a football, and I tried to stab you with an extra point. I wasn’t successful, so I took my...

Don’t be surprised if I try to stab you with a club sandwich sword. I will defend your right to free speech at any cost—including killing you.

Oh. I feel pain. Lots of pain. But nothing else.

Nobody peels a banana before stabbing themselves with it. But that’s exactly how I love—dangerously.