Death decides to fight back and spends some time sharpening his scythe. He tries a grindstone, oilstone, hessian, calico, linen, satin, then silk. It's still not sharp enough so he sharpens it with cobwebs, then the morning breeze and finally the first light of dawn on a mountain top. It turns out to be so sharp that it cuts the blacksmith's finger when it was still inches away. "He wondered if something could be so sharp that it began to possess, not just a sharp edge, but the very essence of sharpness itself, a field of absolute sharpness that actually extended beyond the last atoms of metal."
Bill Door's John Henry-style race against the Combination Harvester with just a scythe. "Bill Door was on his second row, and still accelerating."
A small addition, he was not only accelerating, but also cutting each stalk individually.
Miss Flitworth gets one when she loans Death some of her time to find a weapon because the smith didn't kill the ultra-sharp scythe like he was supposed to.
And Death "But Bill Door was already rising and unfolding like the wrath of kings. He reached behind him, growling, living on loaned time, and his hands closed around the harvest scythe. The crowned Death saw it coming and raised its own weapon but there was very possibly nothing in the world that would stop the worn blade as it snarled through the air, rage and vengeance giving it an edge beyond any definition of sharpness. It passed through the metal without slowing. No crown, said Bill Door, looking directly into the smoke. No crown. Only the harvest."
Azrael's answer to death's question. What can the harvest hope for, if not but the care of the reaper man? And then you turn the page...
Death risking his newly mortal life (which he's terrified of losing) to save a little girl from a fire.
Death knew that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world. He knew this. The knowledge was built into him. To Bill Door, he realized, it was so much horse elbows.