Quotes About Blood

I am going to be on 'True Blood.' It was really exciting. I had a great time shooting it. I spent the last nine months shooting this season and it was very secretive, very sexy, a lot of blood and fangs.

Truth is one forever absolute, but opinion is truth filtered through the moods, the blood, the disposition of the spectator.

My father is incapable of showing much affection, or even of carrying on a conversation. I didn't want to have a relationship with him just because he's my blood relative. It would bore me.

One of my motivations to become a blood specialist was to study malaria in red blood cells. But in science, you discover something and you want to go this way, but your work goes that way.

War has been good to me from a financial standpoint but I don't want to make money that way. I don't want blood money.

Daimons, vampires, ghouls, whatever you want to call them. They suck your blood and your soul and leave you with nothing. Kind of like lawyers. (Selena)

When I go see an R-rated horror movie, I want lots of violence.

There's always a tone that you have to hit right in horror. With the blood, you want to make sure that it makes sense all along.

They are a generation that has tasted blood, and where horror fades, nostalgia seeps in. In war all is simple, and there is appeal in this. Who among us is comforted by confusion, uncertainty?

We go to partake of death. And it is in these moments, before the blades are unsheated, before blood wets the ground and screams fill the air, that the futility descends upon us all. Without our armor, we would all weep.

Pochyleni w wysokich siodÅ'ach swych quorlów Czarni Moranthowie lÅ›nili niczym Å›liskie od krwi diamenty w karmazynowym blasku cienkiej jak miecz smugi jutrzenki.

To measure time, one must begin. To grow futureward, one must root. Deep into the ground with blood.

The poet who glories in war is a spinner of lies. The poet who delights in visceral detail, for the ... purpose of feeding that lust for blood, has all the depth of a puddle of piss....

Seeing that he could not go on, seeing that he was near ters, Brys simply nodded. He turned to study what he could see of the Malazan position. Nothing but armored lizards, weapons lifting and descending, blood rising in a mist. But, as he stared he noticed something. The Nah'ruk were no longe advancing. You stopped them? Blood of the gods, what manner of soldiers are you?

You have no sword…' 'Indeed, I have not. Do you think I will need one?' She leaned close to him. 'Now more than before, I would think.' 'Perhaps you are right. We must needs find a quarry.' 'The Barghast Range. A flint the colour of blood – I will invest it, of course, to prevent its shattering.' 'As you did once before, sister.' 'Long ago.' 'Aye, so very long ago.

Judgement, the coarse, thorn-studded brambles of retribution, they could snag an entire people, and as the blood streamed down each body was lifted higher, lifted from the ground. The vicious snare carried them into the righteous sky. Reason could not reach that high, and in the heavens madness spun untamed.

Sites of battle held on to a madness, as if the blood that had soaked into the soil remembered pain and terror and held locked within it the echoes of screams and death cries.

But blood is the chain that can never break. (...) And, though we leave the house of our birth, it never leaves us.

After all, war knows no other language. In war we invite our own destruction. In war we punish our children with a broken legacy of blood.

Fiddler straightened, eyes on the stars glittering overhead. Desert stars, sharp diamonds that ever seemed eager to draw blood.

Mesh'arn tho'ledann: the Day of Pure Blood.

An item," he said softly, his eyes on the disc, "that passes without provenance, pursued by many who thirst for its cold kiss, on which life and all that lay within life is often gambled. Alone, a beggar's crown. In great numbers, a king's folly. Weighted with ruin, yet blood washes from it beneath the lightest rain, and to the next no hint of its cost. It is as it is, says Kruppe, worthless but for those who insist otherwise.

Today, the empire is reborn. In violence and blood, as with all births. And what, when this day is done, shall we find lying in our lap? Eyes opening onto this world?

Blood and chaos is the wine and meat of the gods—most of them, anyway. Especially the ones most eager to meddle in mortal affairs.