Best 3417 quotes in «blood quotes» category

—¡¿Me buscabais?! —Así es, Gryal Ibori. —¡Pues aquí me tenéis! —gritó furioso, con el alma ardiente y la voz quebrada. Estaba cansado de todo y de todos. Sólo quería ver a Lorette, reunirse con ella y estar a su lado. Y corrió hacia sus enemigos, como un león herido y rodeado, como un hombre que sólo tiembla por frío y sólo llora por amor. Su capa negra se deslizó en el viento, cual triste bandera, y Gryal cortó el aire con su espada ensangrentada.

Men feel about sex the way vampires feel about blood. They don't just like it, they crave it. That's why vampire stories always have strong sexual undercurrents. A vampire's hunger is simply a metaphor for a man's lust. And if a guy is paying attention to you, he wants to have sex with you.

Mi tiene il polso alzato, controllando che non perda ancora. Lui è caldo, stranamente caldo in confronto a tutto il resto. La notte è fredda, come il cemento su cui sono sdraiato, come il mio sangue sparso un po’ dappertutto. Lui è caldo. Cerco di ridere, ma non mi viene.

More people have died in the name of religion than any other cause on earth. Is massacring God's creations really serving God - or the devil? And what father would want to see his children constantly divided and fighting? What God would allow a single human life to be sacrificed for monetary gain? Again, the Creator or the devil?

My dreams are bloody and bleeding and blood is bleeding all over my mind and I can’t sleep anymore.

My Electromagnetic Hypersensitivity (EHS) appeared to be caused by blood clots in the brain which had to be flushed out to cure it. The mystery was why I had the blood clots there, which recently was solved by the medical profession as I have a hole in my heart that creates them. It is estimated that 25% of the population have a hole in their heart and Atrial Septal Defect (ASD) may be one of the triggers for the onset of EHS in a person.

My heart has always beat thunderstorms instead of blood.

My vengeance needs blood.

My knee struck a tree root as my vision went black. Suddenly, I was in a building at Haven Crest, kneeling on the floor. Blood, thick and clotted like canned cherries, crept down the walls. The lights above my head flickered off then on with a menacing hum.

My healthy blood was powerless to cure the sick blood of my beloved. That was beyond understanding. And so is death.

My love, I'm here. I'll wait my whole life through until you're done, there in the cove at Kamouraska. Until you wash your blood-soaked hands and make your way back to me

No ambition which feeds on blood can be a worthy one

Night after night I inflict abuse on myself, even drawing blood. It's strangely calming. I know the pain will stop whenever I want. I was the one who decided when it should start; I will be the one to decide when it stops. However much it hurts, I draw some comfort from the idea that I'm in control.

No blood at all. I could hear that phrase repeat itself in my head, louder each time. No sticky, hot, messy, awful blood. No splatter. NO BLOOD AT ALL. Why hadn't I thought of that?

No one's place in this world is guaranteed. Not everyone is going to get a happy ending. But life isn't about how it ends. It's about the moments between. It's about the small things. The way our loved ones laugh. The sight of a butterfly in the sunlight after a year or two in the darkness. The love and support of an old friend. They might not be with us in body, but they are with us in spirit. The feeling of something we'd thought lost to us forever returned in a single, life-changing moment. Yes, that is simple, even though it might be momentous to us as individuals. Because every day, on this planet, people are born and people die and stranger things happen. But I know my place now, and my purpose. And no matter what trial you have to endure to find that out... It's worth it.

No death is sweeter than this, and no rose redder than the blood that flows.

No. That would not be him. He would not die on a battlefield, choking on blood and honor without making any difference at all.

Nothing good is free, and nothing free is good. You want the world to change, you have to force that change behind gun smoke and lead. Blood is the price, always and ever, if you want to buy freedom.

One of the greatest lessons we can learn in life is how to keep mute when the boiling ring of anger is dropped within us

Now, your Honor, I have spoken about the [Civil] war. I believed in it. I don’t know whether I was crazy or not. Sometimes I think perhaps I was. I approved of it; I joined in the general cry of madness and despair. I urged men to fight. I was safe because I was too old to go. I was like the rest. What did they do? Right or wrong, justifiable or unjustifiable -- which I need not discuss today -- it changed the world. For four long years the civilized world was engaged in killing men. Christian against Christian, barbarian uniting with Christians to kill Christians; anything to kill. It was taught in every school, aye in the Sunday schools. The little children played at war. The toddling children on the street. Do you suppose this world has ever been the same since? How long, your Honor, will it take for the world to get back the humane emotions that were slowly growing before the war? How long will it take the calloused hearts of men before the scars of hatred and cruelty shall be removed? We read of killing one hundred thousand men in a day. We read about it and we rejoiced in it -- if it was the other fellows who were killed. We were fed on flesh and drank blood. Even down to the prattling babe. I need not tell you how many upright, honorable young boys have come into this court charged with murder, some saved and some sent to their death, boys who fought in this war and learned to place a cheap value on human life. You know it and I know it. These boys were brought up in it. The tales of death were in their homes, their playgrounds, their schools; they were in the newspapers that they read; it was a part of the common frenzy -- what was a life? It was nothing. It was the least sacred thing in existence and these boys were trained to this cruelty.

Oh, and Aramis? There is something else about the girl that you should know.” “Yes?” “She is of Yanka’s blood line. That won’t be an issue for you will it?” “No sir.” Aramis hung up the phone quickly and tried not to drop it as he put it in his coat. His hands trembled as he tried to maintain a cool, professional façade. Yanka’s blood. He had to find her and fast.

N O T H I N G I would like to write one of those sophisticated stories in which even though nothing much happens there’s lots to write about. That can’t be done in Kashmir. It’s not sophisticated, what happens here. There’s too much blood for good literature. Q 1: Why is it not sophisticated? Q 2: What is the acceptable amount of blood for good literature? y

Olivier throbbed in his veins. Not feeding put Reiner at risk. His own hunger mixed with Olivier’s madness meant Reiner’s throat would be too alluring for the wrong reasons. A descent into the wilderness would help dispel some of it; the blood would drown the rest.

Only tears can hear the sound of pain when warm blood reddens discolored stain

On Ryukyu islands, the expert Kara-te practitioners, used their skills to subdue, control and generally teach bullies A lesson, rather than severely injure or kill their attackers. They knew full well the consequences of their actions and the trail of blood and retribution that would ensue

Our people... blood is the only language we speak. I'm all out of words.

Our heart is an organ that pumps our blood through our body, but our heart is also an organ that fills that blood with whatever we are feeling and the blood, the blood, the blood moves through every part of us, every fiber of us, every cell.

O, you the goldfish of the swamp of my blood. Let your drunkenness be pretty. You are drinking me.

Painfully, the tips of his fingers grazed over her neck, torturing her soul. She didn't move as his hand stroked the length of her nape, feeling the slight warmth of her aura make him lightly tingle with a frenzied anticipation. Her blood burned for him, feeling her veins bubble hot as he continued to linger his seductions along the rims of her body. He listened attentively as the beating of her heart increased tri-fold, the quickening pulse thump beneath his horny fingertips.

Pain pumps blood when heart dies

Parents: Do you have babies and toddlers who are afflicted by terminal illness, rare and incurable diseases? When all is not well for them, read to them this beautiful, enjoyable and lively healing book breathed by the Holy Spirit of a Sovereign God for your little ones' healing: Dear Baby Be Healed From Terminal Illness: Cutting Through soul and spirit by Stellah Mupanduki ...You will forget that there is illness in your household because you will encounter the healing presence of the Holy Spirit touching you and your little one with sound healing. Smile...cheer up, all will be well for you.

Passion is life and delights await those whose soul lusts for new experiences. Every breath should stir deep, simmering desire for those who incite torrid urges and send blood coursing through fevered veins. Throw each shiver hard against unyielding rock, salaciously invade the soft pleasures whose ripe lips hunger for satisfaction, demanding the flame be fanned and thirst be quenched…Demand no less, take no prisoners…

Poetry without truth, is like a rose without thorns. Still pretty, But sometime the real beauty comes from the things that can make us bleed.

...people who don't live at least a little bit in fear, have nothing left to live for.

People will drive by their high school ten years down the road, just so they can pretend that thinking "not much has changed" is actually true. When really, everything has changed. The air smells the same, but the roads have cracked more. The roads have cracked so much they now look like the skin on a crocodile's back. And all the fields, green in the summers, golden in the autumns, have all been paved over with new reasons to never come back.

Perhaps there had been joy for them in finding that sugar could be made from blood.

Pick a leader who will make their citizens proud. One who will stir the hearts of the people, so that the sons and daughters of a given nation strive to emulate their leader's greatness. Only then will a nation be truly great, when a leader inspires and produces citizens worthy of becoming future leaders, honorable decision makers and peacemakers. And in these times, a great leader must be extremely brave. Their leadership must be steered only by their conscience, not a bribe.

Potassium Cyanide si hatari inapokuwa nje. Ni hatari inapojichanganya na asidi za tumboni ambapo hubadilika na kuwa gesi ya 'hydrogen cyanide'. Gesi ya 'hydrogen cyanide' ni miongoni mwa sumu hatari zaidi ulimwenguni. Mtu akimeza kidonge cha 'cyanide' atapata madhara makubwa. Kichwa chake kitamuuma hapohapo na atachanganyikiwa akili. Ngozi yake itakuwa nyekundu, kwa sababu damu yake itakuwa nyekundu zaidi – kutokana na kuzidi kwa oksijeni katika damu. Mwili hautakuwa na uwezo tena wa kuchukua oksijeni kutoka katika damu ili uitumie, kwa hiyo damu itazidi kuwa na oksijeni zaidi. Atapumua kwa shida. Mapafu yake yatafanya kazi vizuri lakini mwili wake hautakuwa na uwezo wa kutumia oksijeni yoyote – hivyo atadhani ana matatizo katika mfumo wake wa kupumua. Atazimia. Yaani, oksijeni haitafika kwenye ubongo. Atapata kifafa na atatapika nyongo. Ubongo wake utashindwa kufanya kazi na atakuwa mahututi ndani ya sekunde kumi! Baada ya hapo moyo wake utasimama kufanya kazi, na atafariki dunia.

~Posters with torn edges hanging from rotten walls~ The doctor told me something once she said STOP DRINKING I slapped her across the face with this NO I walked right out of that office went right down to the hole I told the bartender WHISKEY, MOTHERFUCKER he poured and he poured and I slapped my money down on that bar the man I had been driving around with he just sort of sat there next to this hooker she probably had something rotten way down there between her legs her eyes told of no soul I emptied the bottle down my throat and ordered some chips the bartender told me THEY'RE STALE and I give him a I DON'T FUCKIN' CARE, GIVE ME SOMETHIN' He slid me a ham sandwich dripping with cheap low-fat mayo and said ENJOY I went back to my room and talked all night so much conversation it turned the toilet bowl pale

Preguntaréis por qué su poesía no nos habla del sueño, de las hojas, de los grandes volcanes de su país natal? Venid a ver la sangre por las calles, venid a ver la sangre por las calles, venid a ver la sangre por las calles!

remember / they love their blood / even as they retch / at the smell of it

Raped at age nine by a relative and pregnant at 14 Oprah Winfrey, like many others have experienced the wickedness and brutality of our society. Sadly, it’s an environment where blood lines no longer hold.

Religion, which was obviously created to give meaning and purpose to people, has become part of the oppression. This is true in both Eastern and Western religious traditions. The Buddha, Jesus and Muhammad were all revolutionaries who critiqued and attempted to dismantle the corrupt societal traditions of their time. Yet their teachings, like most things in human society, have been distorted and co-opted by the confused and power-hungry patriarchal tradition. What were wonce the creation myths of ancient cultures, have become doctrines of oppression. More blood has been spilled and more people oppressed in the name of religion than for any other reason in history.

Profit should never come at the cost of human blood. Any government that places profit before people is pure evil.

Reaction time Touch the underside of a penny you find on the street Doesn't feel any different unless you close your eyes I can taste the copper in my mouth now seeping from between my teeth There's an explanation I'm sure all this blood it's from all the times I held the glass too close And forgot to tip the dancer A storm just passed and like every other one that came before it I was left unharmed The dogs are all barking and the cats hiding in the basement And the sky is colored that bright yellow glow makes it feel like you're wearing sunglasses that you can't take off Wherever you are now it's not here because I missed it I missed the show I missed the curtain call And forever more I am cursed like a blanket without a body to keep warm

Sealing your lips makes your eyes talk Truth creeps beneath your lame feet’s walk Knees stiffen when blood vessels stalk A pounding heart’s lies hard as rock

ROSA MET ME at the door with a shotgun. Strictly speaking, not aimed at me, but you don’t really have to aim a sawed-off shotgun. She swung it toward me. “You, get in there.” She turned her attention to the crowd. “The rest of you will take a number and have a seat.” Her paperwork skills might have been lousy, but her personal touch was something I aspired to.

Seeds, blood. How could you fight such hopeless ideas?

She continue kissing me with that ferocity, so much so that her lips lightly scraped my teeth. It was only a few drops, but as the sweet metallic taste of her blood touched my tongue, a blinding ecstasy flooded my body.

Shame on the misguided, the blinded, the distracted and the divided. Shame. You have allowed deceptive men to corrupt and desensitize your hearts and minds to unethically fuel their greed.