Quotes About Blood

The blood around men's heart is their thinking.

much time. * * * Racing around the outside of the square in his Afghan robes, face smeared with dirt and blood, he looked little different from many of the other men

he was a child of eight, in the aftermath of his first kill. The first taste of blood was always the sharpest, but, for him, the blood didn't matter as much as it did

I can't compete with a ghost or a perfect memory...I'm just a man...Flesh and blood. If you decide that's what you want, you know where to find me...

How senseless is everything that can ever be written, done, or thought, when such things are possible. It must be all lies and of no account when the culture of a thousand years could not prevent this stream of blood being poured out, these torture-chambers in their hundreds of thousands. A hospital alone shows what war is.

Oh yes. Blood is everything. But the only blood I'm interested in flows from my enemies. Look around you! These cats are bathed in blood. It soaks their fur and laps at their paws. This is the way we survive! We are BloodClan!

Blood isn't everything. Loyalty is everything. And Ravenpaw has been more loyal to me then you could be in a thousand lifetimes.

Brambleclaw dipped his head. "The battle is won," he growled. "The clearing is ours. Do you concede or shall we fight for it again?" Blackstar flashed a look of burning hatred over his shoulder. "Take it," he hissed. "It was never worth the blood that has been spilled here today.

My littermates said I was too small...too weak. But I have proven them wrong. I've learned how to live for blood. Because that's the key. The only answer. I am leader of BloodClan. I am Scourge. And I have won!

ShadowClan will soar above you all!" "Leopard and Tiger will feast on your bones!" "Rivers of blood, washing away everything the Clans have known . . .

Bluestar went on: "If you did, you would train with Graypaw to become a Clan warrior." "But kittypets can't be warriors!" Graypaw blurted out. "They don't have warrior blood!

Bluestar told me, 'Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest,'" Firestar finished. "And then blood oozed out of the hill of bones and started to fill the hollow. Blood everywhere . . . Cinderpelt, what does it all mean?

He tried to snarl defiance, but the only sound was blood bubbling in his torn throat.

I would hate to share blood with a murderer.

There's a joke about a man who tested his blade using his tongue: sharp blades taste like metal; really sharp blades taste like blood.

Indifference in religion is more fatal than skepticism. There is no pulse in indifference; skepticism may have warm blood.

It is women who bear the race in bloody agony. Suffering is a kind of horror. Blood is a kind of horror. Women are born with horror in their very bloodstream. It is a biological thing.

As Martin noted, to the detectives conducting his interview, it was a good thing he'd been inebriated, because otherwise he would have wasted time screaming and running about - especially once he realized he was standing in a pool of blood. Instead, with the slow methodical patience of the drunk and terrified, Martin Turner dialed 999 and asked for the police.

You laid hands upon the blood of the dragon and for that offense, you must be punished.

And so, to the end of history, murder shall breed murder, always in the name of right and honor and peace, until the gods are tired of blood and create a race that can understand.

And finally, an intern pushing the metal show box: see the cow, the purple of the hide barely perceptible, blood seeping from the small holes punched by a .22, ears tagged with plastic. Shitting itself, despite the tranquilizers, out of terror at being nearly real.

Then there is another strain of thought. Throughout American history, this strain of thought has emerged victorious—though never without pain and struggle, and sometimes at the cost of death. This philosophy argues that what unites Americans is far stronger and deeper than what divides us, that our vows to one another were cemented in blood, that we are inextricably intertwined. A separation would kill us both.

These invincible barbarian warriors committed acts of untold cruelty upon the unsuspecting citizenry, slaughtering all those before them in a frenzy of blood and fire and then drinking their chocolate milk right out of the carton.

The verb "cleanse" is in the present continual tense, referring to an ongoing activity. It is worth pondering whether our author is saying that cleansing happens in the course of body life, in the context of our communing with one another. Clearly, he does not see it as a purely private matter between the individual and Jesus: it is "we" who have communion and are cleansed by the blood.