Quotes About Blood

too much sadness hath congealed your blood, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

His silver skin laced with his golden blood.

The near in blood, The nearer bloody.

Whence is that knocking? How is't with me when every noise appals me? What hands are here! Ha - they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood         Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.

Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been performed Too terrible for the ear. The times has been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end. But now they rise again With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,             And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is.

Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In differences so mighty.

I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood, For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance.

I am in So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.

for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, That foul defacer of God's handiwork, That excellent grand tyrant of the earth That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.

Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed livery of the burnished sun, To whom I am a neighbor and near bred. Bring me the fairest creature northward born, Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, And let us make incision for your love To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.

Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds (20) In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol. The

Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.

With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of blind Cupid.

17 It shall be a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor blood

the blood tingling in my veins. That wonderful feeling that only a hunter knows crept over my body.

Ho colto una rosa bianca per il mio amore; Ho colto una rosa rossa nel vento. L'amore nel mio cuore tenta di dimostrare Ciò che il tuo cuore sa già, lo sento. Ho punto su una spina il dito, Ho punto un dito con il sangue. Rosso è mio cuore, ferito e tradito Del tuo cuore ha bisogno, esangue. Sulla lingua il dito ho tenuto Il dito ho tenuto e aspettato Il mio cuore nel dolore caduto Dal tuo amore d'essere salvato.»

Thus we see a succession of partisan actions continuing without intermission for nearly twenty years, each injury repeated with interest, each oscillation more violent, each risk more grave, until at last it seemed that the sabre itself must be invoked to cool the blood and the passions that were rife.

I don't know if I saw blood before turning into Mother's arms or if I daubed it on later, in my memory, with a brush (Life of Pi 36)

My heart began to beat like a merry drum and blood started flowing through my veins like cars from a wedding party honking their way through town.

I am alive, he says to himself, I am alive! And life energy surges hotly through him, and delight, and appetite. How good to be in a body - even this old beat-up carcass - that still has warm blood and live semen and rich marrow and wholesome flesh!

People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy, and I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored. I can be destroyed. But as a symbol, as a symbol I can be incorruptible, I can be everlasting.

I am a vampire, and that is the truth.

The pages of history are red with the blood of illuminated "saints" who were murdered by their religions for actually achieving the advertised spiritual rewards.