Sharpening chisels used to be part of my job at the ol' tombstone shop. Boy, that was a gneiss job! A sharper bunch of chiselers you'd never want to meet -- and talk about being stoned! It rocked, lemme tell ya. And the customers were quiet, too. Never had one complaint from 'em. They'd take whatever we'd do lying down, heck, they were so laid back that the grass could grow over 'em, but they were a deep lot -- some were "whither thou ghost" sorts of course, but they all had spirit.