References in classic literature ?
What could it be that gnawed the breast of Roderick Elliston?
So Oz brought a pair of tinsmith's shears and cut a small, square hole in the left side of the Tin Woodman's breast.
At the approach of evening we marched again, and, to cut a long story short, by daylight next morning found ourselves upon the lowest slopes of Sheba's left breast, for which we had been steadily steering.
Behind him were two males, and then Kala, closely straining the little dead form to her breast.
From her breast she plucked it, Parbati the thief, Saw the Least of Little Things gnawed a new-grown leaf
The very sight of it awakened in his breast a strange yearning.
He placed his ear to the breast of Athos, his face to the comte's mouth.
My beast had an advantage in his first hold, having sunk his mighty fangs far into the breast of his adversary; but the great arms and paws of the ape, backed by muscles far transcending those of the Martian men I had seen, had locked the throat of my guardian and slowly were choking out his life, and bending back his head and neck upon his body, where I momentarily expected the former to fall limp at the end of a broken neck.
Many lusty blows, much more pleasant as well as easy to have seen, than to read or describe, were given on both sides: at last a violent fall, in which Jones had thrown his knees into Thwackum's breast, so weakened the latter, that victory had been no longer dubious, had not Blifil, who had now recovered his strength, again renewed the fight, and by engaging with Jones, given the parson a moment's time to shake his ears, and to regain his breath.
Thus the young and pure would be taught to look at her, with the scarlet letter flaming on her breast -- at her, the child of honourable parents -- at her, the mother of a babe that would hereafter be a woman -- at her, who had once been innocent -- as the figure, the body, the reality of sin.
And so exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who had crept along the wall to a point where she could see him, and where she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only raised in frightened compassion, if not even to keep him off and shut out the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him, trembling with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young breast, and love it back to life and hope--so exactly was the expression repeated (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it looked as though it had passed like a moving light, from him to her.
Spit on the city of compressed souls and slender breasts, of pointed eyes and sticky fingers--