Humanity is its own worst enemy. What chance do any other species have?Survival is the parchment upon which the Law of Nature is inscribed.And what I’ll find was always mine.And what I’ll say, I’ve said before.Your kisses taste like blood and wineAnd leave me spent upon the floor.I have endured torments you cannot yet imagine....
Use your blood to paint. Keep painting until you faint. Keep painting until you die.
During surgery, the increased intracranial pressure was released, part of the blood clots that remained after the first operation were drained. At the end of the operation, there is no active bleeding and the intracranial pressure has returned to normal.
Oh come on,’Pheobe continued. ‘You’re asking for it. Pale skin, black clothes, no lunch and that whole brooding thing? It’s hilarious. You should get body glitter and go after an unsuspecting freshman.”You should!’ Cassidy agreed. ‘Tell her you’re a dangerous monster. And mention how good her blood smells.”Wrong time of the month on that one,...
You know what we call pedestrians in Morganville? Mobile bloodbanks.
nothing can ever justify the shedding of innocent blood or the taking of lives
R is for wussies if you’re talking about blood and guts.
The architecture of the Minotaur’s heart is ancient. Rough hewn and many chambered, his heart is a plodding laborious thing, built for churning through the millennia. But the blood it pumps—the blood it has pumped for five thousand years, the blood it will pump for the rest of his life—is nearly human blood. It carries...
Like a lot of people, I love a bit of blood and gore.
As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition’s hands.
My goal is to spread the word about the need for more blood donors.
Fresh blood at midnight isn’t red. It’s a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.
The only river i would like to be drown is the river filled with the blood of Jesus.
Love is like that. It’s like a wildfire in my blood.
The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.
It wasn’t easy looking dignified wearing a bed sheet and a purple cape.
They had to match blood type and meet all sorts of things I don’t know about.
Blood is thicker than water,” because at times blood was the only bond they shared and she had to remind herself they were family, because at times it was unbelievable they were even related. She loved them, but she hadn’t chosen them.
It made my blood boil so hot, my brain stopped working right.
The woman had gasped beneath his heavy body. He rubbed against her, lubricated by the warm, sticky liquid, but as her body gradually grew cold, he felt as though they’d been glued together. She seemed to be see-sawing between agony and ecstasy, but finally Satake pressed his lips over hers to quiet the groans-of pain...
In theater, blood is ketchup; in performance, everything’s real.
Blood is thicker than water, but they still use corn starch as a thickener on cooking shows
Can I dwell on what I scarce remember? I held a castle on the Marches once, and there was a woman I was pledged to marry, but I could not find that castle today, nor tell you the color of that woman’s hair. Who knighted me, old friend? What were my favorite foods? It all...
I had a dream about you. We were almost omniscient, seeing all the problems in this world. We noticed the scratch on my bumper, the ding in my passenger-side door, and the bloodstains in the trunk of my car. But we didn’t notice the biggest problem of all—our kidnap victim’s family had no money—and no...
She once told me of a night that fumed with escapes and was filled with bedsides reeking of ecstasy; she told me the stars cast not judgments, but blessings, knowing full well the disastrous outcomes of the deeds they cradled with the strings of their young hearts. She’d inhaled the night itself, those around her...
The door is crackedWe used to meetlike water does landnonot thatmore like when skin touches skinkissing fingertipsor when air escapes a lung and is felt across the worldI’ve leapt over cracks in sidewalksand swallowed away troublesome back painsthat could only be fixed with someone else’s pillsWe met by your house one stray dayand you drove...
A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy’s body and limbs, like ropes under his skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid, red hives, bloody scratches. His bloodshot eyes bulged, darting back and forth.