Quotes About Blood

We had never built, never created, only stolen your garments and lived in your cities and fed ourselves on your life, your vitality, your very blood—but we could create, given a chance, we had it within us to whisper stories of cities of our own. The red thirst has been a curse, has made my race and yours enemies, has robbed my people of all noble aspirations.

His blood is bad. He needs to be leeched. The leeches suck away the bad blood, all the rage and pain. No man can think so full of anger.

The scent of blood or the scent of gold, they smell the same in the end.

It beat down on Ned's head, warm as blood and relentless as old guilts.

Where Melisandre thinks to find a sleeping dragon, no one is quite sure. It's nonsense. Mance's blood is no more royal than mine own.

Do trees dream?" "Trees? No . . ." "They do," Bran said with sudden certainty. "They dream tree dreams. I dream of a tree sometimes. A weirwood, like the one in the godswood. It calls to me. The wolf dreams are better. I smell things, and sometimes I can taste the blood.

Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.

When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb's leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. "You stupid," she told him, "you scared the baby," but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.

The red priestess shuddered. Blood trickled down her thigh, black and smoking. The fire was inside her, an agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover's hand.

For all her Targaryen blood, Dany had not the least idea of how to train a dragon.

All knights must bleed, Jaime," Ser Arthur Dayne had said, when he saw. "Blood is the seal of our devotion." With dawn he tapped him on the shoulder; the pale blade was so sharp that even that light touch cut through Jaime's tunic, so he bled anew. He never felt it. A boy knelt; a knight rose. The Young Lion, not the Kingslayer. But that was long ago, and the boy was dead.

And with his death, the war of ravens and envoys and marriage pacts came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest.

She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her.

Then Royce's parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. The young Lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It seemed red as fire where they touched the snow.

Fuck your lineage," said Gerris. "The dragons won't care about your blood, except maybe how it tastes. You cannot tame a dragon with a history lesson. They're monsters, not maesters. Quent, is this truly what you want to do?

He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended.

the fine stitching and well-carded wool of his supposedly unobtrusive cloak making him stand out like blood on a wedding dress.

Oh, so poignant'' said Varys. ''And yet, it is truly said that blood runs truer than oaths

O que é o desejo do nosso coração?" "A vingança," a voz dele era baixa, como se tivesse receio de que alguém estivesse ouvindo. "A justiça," Príncipe Doran pressionou o dragão de ônix contra a palma da mão dela com seus dedos inchados e gotosos, e murmurou "Fogo e sangue.

The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half-human children.

I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.

Often, even with a deep cut, the blood came before the pain.

I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyeria. I am the dragon's daughter.

His father took off the man's head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as summerwine.