Quotes About Blood

This Blood that but one drop of has the power to win all the world forgiveness of its world of sin.

There is special power in that sword, ' Ewer went on, 'the gem in the guard of the Ares holds the blood of the Creature that has been slain by it.

Red blood is just so hard to clean up" "You would know" I snap remembering Shade. "Because no matter how hard you try to hid it I see it all over your hands

The only river i would like to be drown is the river filled with the blood of Jesus.

Blood is power, and the heart consumed of one much loved is the most powerful thing of all. After all, what is love if you keep your heart?

We offer our prayers in weakness but they ascend in power because of the blood of Jesus.

The church converteth the whole world by blood and prayer.

Yes, whoa! The power of the mind controlled the blood flow. How? Who knows. But it happens. So in cases of stigmata—like the one with that prisoner I mentioned, or maybe even with Regan—the unconscious mind is controlling the differential of blood flow to the skin, sending more to

In ancient days, men looked at the stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood.

There is no sure foundation set on blood,No certain life achiev'd by others' death.

I hate ingratitude more in a manThan lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness,Or any taint of vice whose strong corruptionInhabits our frail blood.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this bloodClean from my hand? No, this my hand will ratherThe multitudinous seas incarnadine,Making the green one red.

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood:Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.

The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.

War is at best barbarism…. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.

I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration:—feelings, too, Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love....

If the time should ever come when what is now called science, thus familiarised to men, shall be ready to put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the Poet will lend his divine spirit to aid the transfiguration, and will welcome the Being thus produced, as a dear and genuine inmate of the house of man.

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.

Hitler is a monster of wickedness, insatiable in his lust for blood and plunder. Not content with having all Europe under his heel, or else terrorized into various forms of abject submission, he must now carry his work of butchery and desolation among the vast multitudes of Russia and of Asia…. So now this bloodthirsty guttersnipe must launch his mechanized armies upon new fields of slaughter, pillage and devastation.

Through the Lord's death His blood enacted the new covenant; by the Lord's resurrection He became the new covenant with all its bequests (Isa. 42:6; 49:8); and in the Lord's ascension He is the Mediator, the Executor, of the new covenant (Heb. 8:6; 9:15; 12:24) and the surety of the new covenant, the pledge that everything in the new covenant will be fulfilled (7:22):

The day has come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured.

So very lovely His blood on her swollen lips His first vampire So very lovely He would have to remember Each salacious cut He took her slowly Bled her of secrets and screams He smiled contemplating That vampires bled just like whores.

Love performs its natural miracle, and they become part of us; it is a dismemberment to cast them off. Our own blood flows out after them when they go.