"Being in the chapel frightened her, as if her young body were a sin, to be avenged some day, pierced from underneath even as she sipped the rasping wine, the caustic blood of Christ, from the jewel-beknobbed chalice. The chill, the Latin, the fusty smells made her feel accused; her natural warmth felt chastened."
"What a cruel and boy-like business, Gerutha thought, what a cumbersome charade, at the same time admiring a certain honed passion in [falconry], this expertise passed like a much-sharpened scythe down the generations. Men must play with death, to make it less terrible when it comes."
Gertrude and Claudius