Blood Heir Quotes

International business may conduct its operations with scraps of paper, but the ink it uses is human blood. ~ Eric Ambler

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the blood. As odd as it sounds, I felt irritated. I'd just cleaned that glass when I first came in on my shift today. Knowing Jim, he'd make me clean them again before I could go home. After he chewed me out, of course. ~ Rose Wynters

MAILMAN CAUGHT DRINKING THE BLOOD OF GOD AND TAKING A SHOWER, NAKED, IN ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. ~ Charles Bukowski

Don't. I'm all sweaty and bloody," I protested.
"Heavens, not sweat and blood," he replied mockingly. I managed to smile. Smartass vampire. ~ Jeaniene Frost

Hatred as an element of the struggle; a relentless hatred of the enemy, impelling us over and beyond the natural limitations that man is heir to and transforming him into an effective, violent, selective and cold killing machine. Our soldiers must be thus; a people without hatred cannot vanquish a brutal enemy. ~ Che Guevara

The inspired and expired air may be sometimes very useful, by condensing and cooling the blood that passeth through the lungs; I hold that the depuration of the blood in that passage, is not only one of the ordinary, but one of the principal uses of respiration. ~ Robert Boyle

She speculates for the first time on what Melanie could have been, could have become, if she'd lived before the Breakdown. If she'd never been bitten and infected. Because this is a child here, whatever else she is, and she's never lost that sense of her own centre before except when she smelled blood and turned, briefly into an animal. And look at how pragmatically, how ruthlessly, she's coped with that. But Justineau only pursues this train of thought for a moment. When Melanie starts to speak, she commands their full attention. "I ~ M.R. Carey

If blood be shed, let it be our own. Let us cultivate the calm courage to die without killing. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Nightingale
Did I wound you, mutilate. Take away your voice. Did I cut something from you. Leave you locked in silence?
This is what you do: you sing. Every part of you. Your locks of hair sing, your eyes, your hands, your smile. If I listen closely I can even hear your blood.
Was I the one that took that away?
Go down to the water where we used to swim. Stand under the sky at dawn when the sky is streaked with blood. Open your mouth and shout our secret to the waves. The ocean will be your voice. You won't have to carry anything alone. Little Sister, my Spring, April. Little nightingale. Sant at the edge of the water. Your voice will come back to you. Maybe. If I am silent. ~ Francesca Lia Block

For my own family, I would always choose the makeshift, surrogate family formed by various characters unrelated by blood. ~ Anne Tyler

In the Spanish people there is a mixture of Gothic, Frankish and Moorish blood. One can speak of the Spaniard as one would speak of a brave anarchist. The Arabian epoch-the Arabs look down on the Turks as they do on dogs-was the most cultured, the most intellectual and in every way best and happiest epoch in Spanish history. It was followed by the period of the persecutions with its unceasing atrocities. ~ Adolf Hitler

But I believe in love, you know; love is a uniquely portable magic. I don't think it's in the stars, but I do believe that blood calls to blood and mind calls to mind and heart to heart. ~ Stephen King

October Fullness"

Little by little, and also in great leaps,
life happened to me,
and how insignificant this business is.
These veins carried
my blood, which I scarcely ever saw,
I breathed the air of so many places
without keeping a sample of any.
In the end, everyone is aware of this:
nobody keeps any of what he has,
and life is only a borrowing of bones.
The best thing was learning not to have too much
either of sorrow or of joy,
to hope for the chance of a last drop,
to ask more from honey and from twilight.

Perhaps it was my punishment.
Perhaps I was condemned to be happy.
Let it be known that nobody
crossed my path without sharing my being.
I plunged up to the neck
into adversities that were not mine,
into all the sufferings of others.
It wasn't a question of applause or profit.
Much less. It was not being able
to live or breathe in this shadow,
the shadow of others like towers,
like bitter trees that bury you,
like cobblestones on the knees.

Our own wounds heal with weeping,
our own wounds heal with singing,
but in our own doorway lie bleeding
widows, Indians, poor men, fishermen.
The miner's child doesn't know his father
amidst all that suffering.

So be it, but my business
was
the fullness of the spirit:
a cry of pleasure choking you,
a sigh from an uprooted ~ Pablo Neruda

There should be no more shame in acknowledging (mental illness) than in acknowledging a battle with high blood pressure or the sudden appearance of a malignant tumor. ~ Jeffrey R. Holland

Blood trickled from the corner of her (Annabeth) mouth. She croaked, "Family, Luke. You promised."
Luke stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, the blood on her face. "Promise." Then he gasped like he couldn't get air. "Annabeth . . ." But it wasn't the Titan's voice. It was Luke's. He stumbled forward like he couldn't control his own body. "You're bleeding. . . ." He gasped again."He's changing. Help. He's . . . he's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please - "
"The knife, Percy," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero . . . cursed blade . . ."
Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands."Please, Percy . . ."
Luke seemed to know what I was thinking. He moistened his lips. "You can't . . . can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can . . . can keep him controlled."
I raised the knife to strike. Then I looked at Annabeth, at Grover. And I finally understood what she'd been trying to tell me. You are not the hero, Rachel had said. It will affect what you do. The line from the great prophecy echoed in my head: A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. My whole world tipped upside down,and I gave the knife to Luke.I watched as Luke grasped the hilt he stabbed himself ~ Rick Riordan

...but each time my phone buzzed with a text from her my shrieking heart catapulted itself out of my body, leaving behind a gory trail of blood as it sprinted down the hallway and out the front door. ~ Kristen Mae

Religion and its defenders have always been the most insidious enemy of the true faith precisely because they are not glaring opponents; they are impostors. A raving pagan is easier to dismiss than an elder in your church. Before Jesus came along, the Pharisees ran the show. Everybody took what they said as gospel - even though it didn't sound like good news at all. But we wrestle not against flesh and blood. The Pharisees and their brethren down through the ages have merely acted - unknowingly, for the most part - as puppets, the mouthpiece of the Enemy. ~ John Eldredge

You aren't those words. You aren't the shouts and names. You aren't the awful things spat at you like flavorless gum. You aren't the punches or the bruises they cause. You aren't the blood running from your nose. You aren't under their control. You are not theirs.
Inside you is always the part of you that no one can touch. You are you. You are your own and inside you is the universe. You can be whatever you want. You can be anyone.
Don't be afraid. You don't have to be afraid anymore. ~ Salla Simukka

Beware of injustice, for oppression will be darkness on the Day of Resurrection; and beware of stinginess because it doomed those who were before you. It incited them to shed blood and treat the unlawful as lawful. ~ Muhammad

Albert King wasn't my brother in blood, but he sure was my brother in Blues ~ B.B. King

And like our Savior, who poured out His life and blood so we have reason to rejoice, we were made to lay down our lives and give until it hurts. We are most alive when we are loving and actively giving of ourselves because we were made to do these things. It is when we live like this that the Spirit of God moves and acts in and through us in ways that on our own we are not capable of. This is our purpose for living. This is our hope. ~ Francis Chan

dripped down her neck and stained the collar of her shirt. It was a mirror to the wash of blood pouring from her scalp, blinding her left eye and trailing down her cheek like macabre tears. ~ Kayti Nika Raet

He was carving me. Marking me. I whimpered as blood dripped down my neck. 'Mine,' he said.
A threat and a promise. ~ Jill Criswell

The foolish families worry over blood. I care nothing for purity of family or ancestry. That is a vain thing. I care only for strength. What a man can do to other men, women. ~ Pierce Brown

I took my mother's knife and played johnny johnny johnny on the playhouse floor. I was drunk, stabbed myself every few throws. I held my hand up and there was satisfaction at seeing my blood, the way there was when I saw the red gouges onmy face that people stared at and turned away. They were thinking I was beautiful, but they were wrong, now they could see how ugly and mutilated I was. ~ Janet Fitch

Now it is the blood of Jesus which saves, and it is the same blood which cleanses and sanctifies; and as we had to come lo Jesus to be plunged into the fountain, so we have to abide in Jesus by fellowship, to grow up into Christlikeness. ~ Abbott Eliot Kittredge

I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I'm sorry for what I am. You're worth pennies, but I'll make you worth fucking millions. However, what I expect in return will be unpayable." His face softened just a little, unable hide the ferocity he wielded. The sleekness he harnessed. The threats he promised. "We're leaving this place and you'll never be found. You belong to me." His lips touched mine, smearing my blood between us. "Oh, and seeing as you're mine now, you might as well call me Elder." ~ Pepper Winters

I really believe that if we were from another planet, and we sat down to put our heads together on torture experiments, the concept of sticking a needle into someone and sucking their blood out would probably qualify as a pretty good one. ~ Elizabeth Holmes

Red stimulates and excites your nerves, pulse rate and blood circulation, and lends energy to your entire system. When you are fatigued, lethargic or sluggish for any reason, red has an energizing influence. ~ Tae Yun Kim

But thinking is to be a corrective in our life - it's not supposed to be a center of our life. Living is supposed to be the center of our life, being is supposed to be the center - with correctives around, which hold us like the skin holds our blood and our flesh in. But our skin is not a way of life - the way of living is the blood pumping through our veins, the ability to sense and to feel and to know. And the intellect doesn't help you very much there - you should get on with the business of living. ~ Ray Bradbury

Going to come…. I need…. You need to…."
"Come for me, you hot fucker!" Marshell ordered.
He dropped down over me and sealed his mouth over mine in a scorching kiss, then jerked back. I tilted my head a little to the left, and he struck. Sharp pain exploded as he sunk his fangs into me, and then it faded.
Pleasure quickly overrode everything else. I felt him suck, heard him swallow, and then he growled as he came inside me. I lost control and came too, shooting all over my stomach. Finally he stopped taking my blood and withdrew his fangs.
He danced his tongue over my skin, and I assumed he was closing the holes. Panting, he leaned back so we could make eye contact. His braids covered both of our faces, and we stared at each other until he finally softened and slipped out.
"Wow," I whispered.
"Please tell me that's a good wow," Marshell said.
I lifted my hand and traced his jaw. "Absolutely. It was as good as good can get, and yes, we will definitely be doing this again. Thank you for making it special."
The relief on his face touched me.
"Always."
With a sigh, he eased down next to me and pulled me against his body. He wrapped his arm around me. I lay there, enjoying the moment. We'd mated. He was mine, and I was his - no matter what the future held ~ M.A. Church

Matt lead those kids through a whole cycle of emotions, from fear to anger, from anger to hate, from hate to hope. It was somewhat sanitized, somewhat canned and rehearsed, but it was marketing genius. I knew how to kill people. Matt knew how to convince people to want to kill. I'm pretty sure that there's more blood on his hands than on mine. I remember leaving the meeting when I was sixteen - frothing at the mouth, ready to start killing. The meeting gave me a purpose. I was sixteen. All I wanted was a purpose. Now, I sat watching Matt's little presentation and felt nothing. Now I had my own reasons for hating the enemy. I didn't need the slide show anymore. War will do that to you. ~ Trevor Shane

Time seemed to stand still as she noticed three droplets of blood splattered on the Indian's cheek. Crimson red, she thought. Three crimson red droplets. The color of the rubescent calla lilies in her mother's garden. Her mother had explained the wine colored flower meant strength, and passionate courage. How fitting, Zee thought as shock of the reality around her began to set in. ~ Basil Pearl

It is common for folk who are not Witted to think that those of us with Old Blood can talk to any animal. We can't. The Wit is a mutual exchange, a sharing of thoughts. Some creatures are more open than others; some cats will not only talk to anyone, but will natter on or nag or pester with absolutely no restraint. Even the person with only the tiniest shred of the Wit will find themselves standing to open the door before the cat has scratched at it, or calling the cat from across the room to share the best morsel of fish. ~ Robin Hobb

Piper was maybe the most impressive. She fenced with the giantess Periboia, sword against sword. Despite the fact that her opponent was five times larger, Piper seemed to be holding her own. The goddess Aphrodite floated around them on a small white cloud, strewing rose petals in the giantess's eyes and calling encouragement to Piper. 'Lovely, my dear. Yes, good. Hit her again! ~ Rick Riordan

Let me tell you something about the beauty of destruction. There is a distinct art in boxing, because there is method, strategy, technique rules and all the bells and whistles that the general public knows. However, since the beginning of time mankind was destined to appreciate the art of combat; and that is the mortal sacrifice - you put yourself out there and display a virtual painting, an interactive canvas that portrays the nature of the human body and what it's capable of, and as an outcome, the object of combat is not to sacrifice yourself to entertain spectators, no, but to make the other bastard sacrifice himself to entertain spectators - thus comes the art of honor. It's not a thirst for blood, not at all - but an astonishment, an appreciation for the capabilities of a human that bares his soul naked for the art of combat using strictly his body. That's entertainment. ~ Ghaleya Aldhafiri

And do not try to be so brave. I am your lifemate.You cannot hide from me something as powerful as fear."
"Trepidation," she corrected, nibbling at the pad of his thumb.
"Is there a difference?" His pale eyes had warmed to molten mercury. Just that fast, her body ent liquid in answer.
"You know very well there is." She laughed again, and the sound traveled down from his heart to pool in his groin, a heavy,familiar ache. "Slight, perhaps, but very important."
"I will try to make you happy, Savannah," he promised gravely.
Her fingers went up to brush at the thick mane of hair falling around his face. "You are my lifemate, Gregori. I have no doubt you will make me happy."
He had to look away,out the window into the night. She was so good, with so much beauty in her, while he was so dark, his goodness drained into the ground with the blood of all the lives he had taken while he waited for her. But now,faced with the reality of her, Gregori could not bear her to witness the blackness within him, the hideous stain across his soul.
For beyond his killing and law-breaking, he had committed the gravest crime of all. And he deserved the ultimate penalty, the forfeit of his life. He had deliberately tempered with nature.He knew he was powerful enough, knew his knowledge exeeded the boundaries of Carpathian law. He had taken Savannah's free will, manipulated the chemistry between them so that she would believe he was her true lifemate. And so she was wi ~ Christine Feehan