The knife was amazingly sharp, and seemed never to lose its edge.

The knife seemed to launch from his fingers like a living thing unleashed.

She tried to lift her hand, but the knife now seemed as heavy as a sword.

The knife seemed to know where it had to go.

A knife in the ribs seemed what I should be most wary of.

For a fleeting second Brock, knife in hand, seemed to be flying toward the little man.

But this was easier said than done; the knife seemed to be always in the wrong position, and his bonds were not cut.

A second knife seemed to overlap the one in the thief's hand.

"Is that why my knife didn't seem to hurt Gretchen?"

The long knife he has painted with an especially sharp edge seems the moral equivalent of the fish itself.