Quotes About Blood

But words were indeed ephemeral, able to sleet past all manner of defences, quick to cut, eager to draw blood.

But blood is the chain that can never break. And, though we leave the house of our birth, it never leaves us. [...] Blood. Of course. This is how you break an unbreakable chain. By dying.

Is there a difference between spilled blood and blood squeezed out slowly, excruciatingly, over the course of a foreshortened lifetime of stress, misery, anguish and despair – all in the name of some amorphous god that no-one dares call holy? Even as they bend knee and repeat the litany of sacred duty?

He was not too old, and he had a family—people to fight for, to return to, people that mattered in his life. Those were important things. A necessary pressure, fire for the blood. None of which existed in Gamet's life.

Found the rum, did you?' Lutes said from behind her, 'She's poisoning her liver.' 'My liver's fine, soldier. Just needs a squeezing out.' 'Squeezing out?' She turned round and glared at the squad healer. 'I seen livers before, Cutter. Big sponges full of blood. Tumbles out when you cut someone open.' 'Sounds more like a lung, Sergeant. The liver's this flat thing, muddy brown or purple—

The historian rode out into the battlefield, almost desperate to rejoin the army. It was not a time to be alone, in the heart of slaughter, where every piece of wreckage or burned and torn flesh seemed to cry out silent outrage. 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.

Oh, we take you into slaughter without a moment's thought. And yes, some of you come to enjoy it, to lust for that cacophony, that violence, the reek of blood. And so we share with you, dear horse, our peculiar madness. But who judges us for this crime against you and your kind? No one. Unless you horses have a god.

Oh, we take you into slaughter without a moment's thought. And yes, some of you come to enjoy it, to lust for that cacophony, that violence, the reek of blood. And so we share with you, dear horse, our peculiar madness. But who judges us for this crime against you and your kind? No one. Unless your horses have a god.

Every day another miracle Only death will tear us apart To sacrifice a life for yours I'd be the blood of the Lazarus heart The blood of the Lazarus heart

In the days of the Dragon, on this night of Foymoriel, the people brought to this rock the fairest of youths. Here his blood was spilled and cast over the stone. Our silken cloth represents this blood. As the youth lay swooning against the rock, so the women called to the great Foy. She smelled the boy's blood and came up from the deep to accept the offering.

Quickly, the gold fell away, and then, as if they were somehow made of a lighter substance, Ays and the other shot upwards. They ascended in a shroud of hair, in ribbons of blood, up through the milky water. And it was not so far.

Behold! For this is his blood, within which dwells the light of truth!

Blood scared them now. The god of blood had come visiting and put his mark upon them. He had murdered the God with no name and desecrated His chapel.

Caradoreans were valued in Magrast. They were seen as lucky, as if they carried a special magic in their blood.

Salamiel covered his head with his hands and the scent of hallowed blood rained down upon him.

Please don't get angry. I know this must sound very peculiar." "Peculiar? Sounds like something out of a horror film. You want me to suck your blood? What do you think I am?" "You're disabled," Othman answered simply. "And desperate. You want vitality. You want strength and agility. Youth. You want Barbara Eager.

By the elements, you surely have the blood of Jadrin in your veins. A minx, a trickster, like him!

A vague memory stirred of a moonlit bathroom and blood, black in the moonlight, pooling on the floor. Jadrin shuddered and the boy opened his eyes. They were the colour of violets.

Khaster could feel the blood beating in every inch of his veins. He could see its red building behind his eyes.

Outside, she stood in the street, tears running uncontrollably down her face. Devil, demon. What had seduced her? Possibly not even flesh and blood. She must find him now and finish her task. It was her destiny. It was war.

The power is in the land and in our blood, but we have lost that special connection with the sea. It has been severed.

Our immortal blood, while not so potent as to grant immortality to humankind can, if imbibed on a regular basis, at least double their lifespan.

Creatures that feed upon blood are abhorred and feared by the majority of humans.

Looking back, I feel that a beast was loosed in me in Lansaal-it was certainly loosed in Beth-an ancient beast from ancient times, which lurks still within the hearts of our people, waiting for the scent of terrified blood to wake it from sleep.