But should you ever come to a time when you need to say something upon my behalf, say this, 'The last truth is that there is no magic.
The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armor against Fate. Death lays his icy hand on kings...
My heart is ripped open, shredded, leaking blood. I can't let him leave like this. We've been through to much to turn into strangers.
…I am left with less than one drop of my blood that does not tremble. I recognize the the signs of the old flame.
Allo, darlin’. Oi’m so glad to see it’s love at first sight for you, too.
Do not seek power for revenge. Seek power in order to avoid situations that would make you want revenge.
For her a day of pampering meant comic books, black liquorice, serious exercise, veggie curry and, above all, solitude.
Something you killed didn't stay dead? Wow. That must have really put some termites in your coffin.
Once in a very long time you come across a book that is far, far more than the ink, the glue and the paper, a book that seeps into your blood.
Blood may be thicker than water, but it's certainly not as thick as ketchup. Nor does it go as well with French fries.
I will never leave you for I am intertwined in the fabric of you're being and my life blood's essence pulsates through your'e veins.
I can dip the pen in my own blood if I choose.
The Toyota plowed headlong into the boy. But there was no impact. No screams, no blood, no bending metal. The boy simply dematerialized in a swirl of white light.
Nobody special had come around to replace Duane, and she was moping, going to bed alone every night with a box of Velveeta and a fork.
...free will does not mean one will, but many wills conflicting in one man. Freedom cannot be conceived simply.
Eastward and westward storms are breaking,--great, ugly whirlwinds of hatred and blood and cruelty. I will not believe them inevitable.
Man’s guilt in history and in the tides of his own blood has been complicated by technology, the daily seeping falsehearted death.
Thunder and blood and night must usurp our parts, to complete and make up the catastrophe of this great piece.
I discovered the bleeding when he licked my hand and left a swath of blood behind, death's autograph.
Experience is an author’s most valuable asset; experience is the thing that puts the muscle and the breath and the warm blood into the book he writes.
The Epistle of our being is written with letters full of blood drained from the love of God's Word.
