1883, Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure IslandIt was one January morning, very early — a pinching, frosty morning — the cove all gray with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward.
2012, Paul Theroux, The Lower RiverSimon ate an orange, removing the peel in fastidious pinchings, such delicacy in a dugout on a river flowing through the bush.