I had never been so extravagantly proud of having blood that clotted.
For a week, almost without speaking, they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief, lighted only by the tenuous reflection of luminous insects, and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood.
Angelina leaned forward as Sara pulled Miki back to her, "You know what they say about curiosity? That it stabbed the annoying biker girl over and over and over again until she spit up blood.
Death abides by no one's rules...it takes what pleases it without consciousness to its decisions. It destroys what it will. It took the pieces of perfection I once knew and shattered them. Now what remains are shards of a dream, drawing blood with ev...
Humans are part of nature, and nature is one great big wood chipper. Sooner or later, everything shoots out the other end in a spray of blood, bones, and hair.
And she thought then how strange it was that disaster--the sort of disaster that drained the blood from your body and took the air out of your lungs and hit you again and again in the face--could be at times, such a thing of beauty.
The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the se...
That is what the taste of blood does. It takes away the gap between thought and action.To think is to do. There is no unlived life inside you as the air speeds past your body, as you look down at the dreary villages and market towns...
I can see that Elijah knows exactly what Thompson’s asking. Thompson is asking if Elijah likes killing. Elijah considers it for a moment. ‘It’s in my blood,’ he finally says.
Where got she her sullen mouth And where her swaying form? Would she live on eggs and apples When the blood of men is warm? (“The Young Witch”)
The pathway traced with blood and tears, and dust of all our father's dead, Whose backward footsteps, wandering, red, Fade to the mist of nameless years. (“The Testimony of the Suns”)
I'm a killer, Gabrielle.” He snarled the words at her. “That's all you need to know. Is that what you want sliding into your bed every night, lass? Touching your body with hands that were soaked in blood minutes before?
I love you and it has transformed me. It has changed the way that blood flows through me. I would call it a fatal condition but I know it will last beyond even death.
When I think of war, I see blood. Pain and suffering. Nothing good comes from war. But there is good. There will be an outcome. One side will find peace, solace. While the other will end in bitter loss. There are two sides to the coin of war.
You do know that I am a Fae, correct?" "Well, if the purple blood oozing from your friends there wasn't a clue, I would say the wings and angry gleam in your eyes tipped the scale.
His head pounded with such intensity, he feared it would explode. It was hard for him to control himself around her. It was in his nature to crave her blood, and the craving was like a toothache that wouldn't stop throbbing.
Lord help her, but she was instantly drawn to his scent - a mixture of smoke and salt and mystery - as well as his strength. The pulse of his heart, the hum of blood through his veins, the aura of power and danger surrounding him.
It's unclear who moves first. We're in each other's arms, lips locked, melded, hotly fused. Our hands drag over each other, reacquainting, remembering, almost as if we're both verifying the other one is real flesh and blood.
Blood drummed in her ears and adrenaline coursed through her veins, driving her to move. To act. Her hands trembled against his chest. Time vanished out from beneath her feet, one accelerating second at a time.
The offspring of nationalist thinking too often expresses itself in exclusionary and passively-violent legal policies, and then sadly, through militarism, which becomes manifest on the endless blood-soaked borders and battlefields of humanity's great...
You'd forgive me for Claire - but not for killing your . . . men." He glanced at the two Craddocks, spotty as a pair of raisin puddings and - Grey's look implied - likely no brighter.
