Quotes About Blood

Caffeine restricts blood flow to the brain.

Human beings, perfected by our own technology. Only to be wielded by the chosen few. Not by the sheep but by those who are better, Those who are willing to make it to the stars through blood.

The village had a mill near it, situated on the little creek, which made very good flour. The population consisted of civilized Indians, but much mixed blood.

Will you, my countrymen, the descendants of these men, warmed by their blood, inheriting their language, and having the principles for which they struggled confided to your care, allow them to be violated in your hands?

When I was running Atari, violence against humanoid figures was not allowed. We'd let you shoot at a tank... but we drew the line at shooting at people, with blood splattering everywhere.

I saw Quentin Tarantino's 'Django Unchained,' and you could say a lot of things against it, but it was incredible fun. I don't like blood and gore, and I am very squeamish about violence, but Tarantino's violence is actually funny.

When media coverage sets up a binary opposition between 'the accuser' and 'the accused,' there is no longer a victim or even an alleged victim - a flesh and blood person who was harmed by the violent act of another.

There is no longer a way out of our present situation except by forging a road toward our objective, violently and by force, over a sea of blood and under a horizon blazing with fire.

Of course, screening for HIV did essentially eliminate the transmission of this virus by transfusions.

Eazy was a true visionary. He really was like flesh and blood. Like a son. He was a good kid. He was the best.

words on paper are not the same as blood on hands.

Sa bouche à nouveau saignait à neuf.

The use of both elements enabled Christ to give a vivid representation of the idea that His body was broken, that flesh and blood were separated, and that the sacrament both nourishes and quickens the soul.

Slipping in blood, by his own hand, through pride, Hamlet, Othello, Coriolanus fall. Upon his bed, however, Shakespeare die, Having endured them all.

Nature is strictly moral. There is no attempt to cheat the Earth my means of steel vault of bronze coffin. I hope that when I die I too may be permitted to pay at once my oldest outstanding debt, to restore promptly the minerals and salts that have been lent to me for the little while that I have use for blood and bone and flesh.

the answers lay in flesh and blood, not in a book and not in a report. And so often not even in things corporeal, but in something that couldn't be held and contained and touched. The answers to his questions lay in the murky past and in the emotions hidden there. The

The only way to tell if someone is a bodiless witch is by the deep wrinkle lines around her neck. At night when these witches go to sleep their heads separate from their bodies. Dragging their intestines along, they fly around to places where there's blood and death. The heads fly so fast that no one has ever seen the faces, only their shiny red eyes and sometimes the shadow of their heads and entrails. Once she finds a dead body, the bodiless witch nestles against the corpse all night.

I like my job in emergency. Blood, bones, tendons seem like affirmations to me. I am awed by the human body, by its endurance. Thank God--because it'll be hours before X-Ray or Demerol. Maybe I'm morbid. I am fascinated by two fingers in a baggie, a glittering switchblade all the way out of a lean pimp's back. I like the fact, in Emergency, everything is reparable, or not.

Por favor. ¿Podrían limpiarle los ojos? —A la mierda sus ojos. —Inclínate un poco, Jesse. Le lamí la sangre de los ojos. Tardé mucho rato; la sangre estaba espesa y reseca, pegada en las pestañas. Tenía que escupirla a cada momento. Con el cerco rojizo, sus ojos despedían un destello ambarino. —Eh, Maggie, a ver esa sonrisa. (Del cuento A ver esa sonrisa)

and adam rose fearful in the garden without words for the grass his fingers plucked without a tongue to name the taste shimmering in his mouth did they draw blood the blades did it become his early lunge toward language did his astonishment surround him did he shudder did he whisper eve

when you lie awake in the evenings counting your birthdays turn the blood that clots on your tongue into poems. poems. from "The Message of Thelma Sayles

Blood spilled out from the hole in your heart Over the strings of your guitar The worn down places in the wood That once made you feel so good Drunken Angel

Men like war: they do not hold much sway over birth, so they make up for it with death. Unlike women, men menstruate by shedding other people's blood.

I was a writer. A child who believed in fairy tales. Not the silly Disney ones your mother read to you, but the ones with blood and thorns, with girls who knew that love could kill you just as often as it could set you free.