Paco Aguilar Blood In Blood Out Quotes

The last time the Right Honourable Gentleman raised the accusation about the policies of this government forcing his constituents to resort to inedible foods - in that case, as I remember, it was ants, earwigs, and glowworms - the National Health looked very seriously into the matter, and their inspectors. . . ." "Division! Division!" cried out some who had got the scent of blood, and Mallet Scuffs himself, successfully diverted, cried out, "Weevils, too! Weevils and grubs!" "Their inspectors. . . ." "Weevils, too, weevils and grubs! Weevils, too, weevils and grubs!" chanted a Marxist anti-missile faction. ~ Mark Helprin

men of m blood and treachery shall not n live out half their days. But I will o trust in you. ~ Anonymous

Start fresh." "And Maryanne?" "She's devastated about what James put us through. I think she'd like a fresh start, too, and more time with Nathan. On the other hand ... you know, she really loves James. Even after everything, I don't think she can bring herself to leave him." James was in a coma. Between the blood loss and damage to his internal organs, his system had shut down. Doctors didn't think he'd ever regain consciousness. Mostly, they were surprised the man was still alive. "Maybe someday," Bobby said. Catherine nodded. "Maryanne likes Arizona. She mentioned they'd always talked about buying a home out there. So maybe, afterwards ... " His turn to nod. Now they both watched Nathan. The boy's cheeks were flushed, his breath coming in frosty pants. Trickster nipped at his ~ Lisa Gardner

While they argued, the pain blazed on. My blood boiled in my veins. Why was I doing this? Was he worth all of this pain? Why should I care if he lived or died?
"I love him." The words came out as a whisper, but they seemed to diminish the heat. I felt stronger and more sure of myself. ~ Heather James

I used to think Romeo and Juliet was the greatest love story ever written. But now that I'm middle-aged, I know better. Oh, Romeo certainly thinks he loves his Juliet. Driven by hormones, he unquestionably lusts for her. But if he loves her, it's a shallow love. You want proof?" Cagney didn't wait for Dr. Victor to say yay or nay.

"Soon after meeting her for the first time, he realizes he forgot to ask her for her name. Can true love be founded upon such shallow acquaintance? I don't think so. And at the end, when he thinks she's dead, he finds no comfort in living out the remainder of his life within the paradigm of his love, at least keeping alive the memory of what they had briefly shared, even if it was no more than illusion, or more accurately, hormonal.

"Those of us watching events unfold from the darkness know she merely lies in slumber. But does he seek the reason for her life-like appearance? No. Instead he accuses Death of amorousness, convinced that the 'lean abhorred monster' endeavors to keep Juliet in her present state, her cheeks flushed, so that she might cater to his own dissolute desires. But does Romeo hold her in his arms one last time and feel the warmth of her blood still coursing through her veins? Does he pinch her to see if she might awaken? Hold a mirror to her nose to see if her breath fogs it? Once, twice, three times a 'no.'"

Cagney sighed, listened to the leather creak as he shifted his weight in his chair.
< ~ J. Conrad Guest

What's bred in the bone comes out in the blood. ~ Martina Cole

Lord God, I confess that my son/daughter is loosed from all bondage - set free by the precious blood of Jesus. No past, present, or future bondage will ever prevail against ____________. The world, sin, deception, satanic enticements, the flesh, even fear of death - none of these things will ever be able to enslave this child who is dedicated to You. I pray that You will always be a deliverer, guardian, and guide to ____________, bringing him/her out of any weakness, darkness, or difficult situation of life. I pray that by Your mighty hand You will lead my child into the promised land of his/her destiny. You are the almighty God! There is nothing too hard for You! So I declare redemption over my offspring, believing it will come to pass. In the name of Jesus, amen (let it be so)! ~ Mike Shreve

And you just had to rush right over here to rub my face in it."
"Nope. I rushed right over here to slap your face in it."
"A rude but effective wake-up call," Laura commented and earned a shocked stare.
"I expected better from you."
"You shouldn't have." Hands brisk and competent, she affixed a shiny silver bow to the box. "If you don't want to tell us what happened between you and Josh,fine.But you can't expect us to sit around quietly while you mope."
"I have not been moping."
"We've been cleaning up the blood spilling out of your heart for weeks." Kate passed Laura her credit card. "Face it,pal, you're just no fun anymore."
"And that's all this friendship is about?Fun? I thought I might get a little support,a little sympathy, a little compassion."
"Sorry," Laura imprinted the card with a steady sweep. "Fresh out. ~ Nora Roberts

Hatred is a bitter, damaging emotion. It winds itself through the blood, infecting its host and driving it forward without any reason. Its view is jaundiced and it skews even the clearest of eye sights. Sacrifice is noble and tender. It's the action of a host who values others above himself. Sacrifice is bought through love and decency. It is truly heroic. Vengeance is an act of violence. It allows those who have been wronged to take back some of what was lost to them. Unlike sacrifice, it gives back to the one who practices it. Love is deceitful and sublime. In its truest form, it brings out the best in all beings. At its worst, it's a tool used to manipulate and ruin anyone who is stupid enough to hold it. Don't be stupid. Sacrifice is for the weak. Hatred corrupts. Love destroys. Vengeance is the gift of the strong. Move forward, not with hatred, not with love. Move forward with purpose. Take back what was stolen. Make those who laughed at your pain pay. Not with hatred, but with calm, cold rationale. Hatred is your enemy. Vengeance is your friend. Hold it close and let it loose. May the gods have mercy on those who have wronged me because I will have no mercy for them. (Xypher) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Feelings of longing seemed to burst from her heart; they ran in all directions, like streams of blood, seeking out paths to all the places in the wide landscape where she had lived, to all her sons roaming through the world, to all her dead lying under the earth. ~ Sigrid Undset

That's just blood. And in my book? Choice wins out over blood every time." -Hallie ~ Myra McEntire

Way back when the Sam Peckinpah film The Wild Bunch premiered, a woman journalist raised her hand at the press conference and asked the following: "Why in the world do you have to show so much blood all over the place?" She was pretty worked up about it. One of the actors, Ernest Borgnine, looked a bit perplexed and fielded the question. "Lady, did you ever see anyone shot by a gun without bleeding?" This film came out at the height of the Vietnam War.
I love that line. That's gotta be one of the principles behind reality. Accepting things that are hard to comprehend, and leaving them that way. And bleeding. Shooting and bleeding. ~ Haruki Murakami

I take it your revolt is not engineered for the benefit of your fellow-nobles, or as an attempt to reestablish your mother's blood claim through the Calahanras family. Wherefore is it, then?"
I looked up in surprise. "There ought to be no mystery obscuring our reasons. Did you not trouble to read the letter we sent to Galdran Merindar before he sent Debegri against us? It was addressed to the entire Court, and our reasons were stated as plainly as we could write them--and all our names signed to it."
"Assume that the letter was somehow suppressed," he said dryly. "Can you summarize its message?"
"Easy," I said promptly. "We went to war on behalf of the Hill Folk, whose Covenant Galdran wants to break. But not just for them. We also want to better the lives of the people of Remalna: the ordinary folk who've been taxed into poverty, or driven from their farms, or sent into hastily constructed mines, all for Galdran's personal glory. And I guess for the rest of yours as well, for whose money are you spending on those fabulous Court clothes you never wear twice? Your father still holds the Renselaeus principality--or has he ceded it to Galdran at last? Isn't it, too, taxed and farmed to the bone so that you can outshine all the rest of those fools at Court?"
All the humor had gone out of his face, leaving it impossible to read. He said, "Since the kind of rumor about Court life that you seem to regard as truth also depicts us as inveterate liars, I will not wa ~ Sherwood Smith

Before being born, his mother explained, babies go to school. Not a school like Boris's, but a different kind of school, where all the teachers are angels. The angels teach each baby the entire Torah, along with all of the secrets of the universe. Then, just before each baby is born, an angel puts its finger right below the baby's nose - here she paused to put her finger across his lips (could he see the blood under her skin, or did he only imagine it?) - and whispers to the child: Shh - don't tell. And then the baby forgets. "Why does he have to forget?" Boris had asked, moving his lips beneath her finger. He didn't want to know, not really. But his mother's back had stiffened, and he could feel that she might get up at any moment, put out the light, walk away, disappear. She pulled her hand away from his face, resting it on her own stomach. "So that for the rest of his life," she said, "he will always have to pay attention to the world, and to everything that happens in it, to try to remember all the things he's forgotten. ~ Dara Horn

From where I sit it today, pirate country starts about ten miles east of me. Foulness, Paglesham and the Blackwater. To this day, pubs out there go silent when a stranger walks in. You're standing on their dirt, after all. A life on the ocean waves is one thing, but blood and soil are entirely another. ~ Bruce Sterling

Just to try. The smooth
surface resists, resists,
and erupts in my mouth:
seeds, juice, acid, blood

of a perfect household.
The way, when I finally
went sailing, my stomach
was rocked from inside

out. Little boat, big sea.
Handful of skinned sunsets.

from Cherry Tomatoes ~ Sandra Beasley

We know that these clashes with Asia and Jewry are necessary for evolution. They give the cue for the European Continent to unite. These clashes are the only evolu-tionary possibility which will enable us one day, now that Fate has given us the Fuehrer Adolf Hitler, to create the Germanic Reich. They are the necessary condition, for our race, and our blood to create for itself and put under cultivation, in the years of peace, (during which we must live and work austerely, frugally and like Spartans), that settlement area in which new blood can breed, as in a botanical garden so to speak. Only by this means can the Continent become a Germanic Continent, capable of daring to embark, in one or two or three or five or ten generations, on the conflict with this Continent of Asia which spews out hordes of humanity. Perhaps we shall also have to hold in check other coloured peoples who will soon be in their certain prime, and thus preserve the world, which is the world of our blood, of our children and of our grandchildren. Now it is just this world we like the best, the Germanic world, the world of Nordic life. We know that this conflict with the advancing pressure from Asia, with the 200 million Russians, is necessary. ~ Heinrich Himmler

After a few brief simple moments, he found her neck, kissing the nape as if it were a peach, grazing her skin barely, causing her to moan out a small tiny little whimper. Before she could take another rbreath, his lips met hers in rapture, and suddenly, she was lost within the tragic abyss of falling beneath a lovebinding spell. ~ Keira D. Skye

He was right! Said you'd go straight after 'em, sword and knife. What's with you?"
"You said, 'A trap.' I thought it was them," I muttered through suddenly numb lips. "Wasn't it?"
"Didn't you see the riding of greeners?" Bran retorted. "It was Debegri, right enough. He had paid informants in those inns, for he was on the watch for your return. Why d'you think Vidanric sent the escort?"
"Vidanric?"
"His name," Branaric said, still staring at me with that odd gaze. "You could try to use it--only polite. After all, Shevraeth is just a title, and he doesn't go about calling either of us Tlanth."
I'd rather cut out my tongue, I thought, but I said nothing.
"Anyway--life, sister--if he'd wanted me dead, why not in the comfort of his own home, where he could do a better job?"
I shook my head. "It made sense to me."
"It makes sense when you have a castle-sized grudge." He sighed. "It was the Renselaeus escort, hard on their heels, that attacked Debegri's gang and saved my life. Our friend the Marquis wasn't far behind--he'd just found out about the spies, he said. Between us we pieced together what happened, and what I said, and what you'd likely do. I thought you'd stay home. He said you'd ride back down the mountain breathing fire and hunting his blood. He was right." He stared to laugh, but it came out a groan, and he closed his eyes for a long breath. Then, "Arrow clipped me on the right, or I'd be finished. But I can't talk long--I'm alrea ~ Sherwood Smith

Those words.
Samuel's thirteen words became heartbeats-
became my reasons to breathe in-
and out of that moment.
More than blood, I wanted him.
I whispered, "Why did you want to know my name?"
"Because my heart needed a name to beat to."
I grinned. "Is your heart always so delirious?"
"Would it be a heart if it was anything else? ~ David James

Whether dualistic, qualified monistic, or monistic, they all firmly believe that everything is in the soul itself; it has only to come out and manifest itself. Therefore, this shraddha is what I want, and what all of us here want, this faith in ourselves, and before you is the great task to get that faith. Give up the awful disease that is creeping, into our national blood, that idea of ridiculing everything, that loss of seriousness. Give that up. Be strong and have this shraddha, and everything else is bound to follow. ~ Swami Vivekananda

I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it ~ Sharon Olds

Thus, it comes to pass, that a certain room in a certain old hall, where a certain bad lord, baronet, knight, or gentleman, shot himself, has certain planks in the floor from which the blood will not be taken out. You may scrape and scrape, as the present owner has done, or plane and plane, as his father did, or scrub and scrub, as his grandfather did, or burn and burn with strong acids, as his great-grandfather did, but, there the blood will still be - no redder and no paler - no more and no less - always just the same. ~ Charles Dickens

We could never predict what moment in the service would trigger a full-blown crisis of faith. Once, it was the kids' choir singing "Nothing but the Blood" during special music.
"Surely I'm not the only one who thinks it's creepy to hear all those little voices singing about getting washed in the flow of someone's blood," I muttered as Dan and I escaped out the double doors.
Another time it was a prayer about God granting our troops victory over their enemies as they served him in Iraq.
"Don't you think the Iraqis are just as convinced God is on their side?" I whispered.
Sometimes it was just the way people chatted in the fellowship hall about "those liberals," as if feminists or Democrats or Methodists couldn't possibly be in their midst.
Often it was the assumption that women were unfit to speak from the pulpit or pass the collection plate on Sunday mornings, but were welcome to serve the men their key lime pie at the church picnic. ~ Rachel Held Evans

JOS20.1 The LORD also spake unto Joshua, saying, JOS20.2 Speak to the children of Israel, saying, Appoint out for you cities of refuge, whereof I spake unto you by the hand of Moses: JOS20.3 That the slayer that killeth any person unawares and unwittingly may flee thither: and they shall be your refuge from the avenger of blood. JOS20.4 And when he that doth flee unto one of those cities shall stand at the entering of the gate of the city, and shall declare his cause in the ears of the elders of that city, they shall take him into the city unto them, and give him a place, that he may dwell among them. JOS20.5 And if the avenger of blood pursue after him, then they shall not deliver the slayer up into his hand; because he smote his neighbour unwittingly, and hated him not beforetime. ~ Anonymous

He never looked better, nor had he been loved more, not had the breeding of his animals been wilder. There was a slaughtering of so many cows, pigs and chickens for the endless parties that the ground in the courtyard turned black and muddy with so much blood. It was an eternal execution of bones and innards, a mud pit of leftovers, and they had to keep exploding dynamite bombs all the time so that the buzzards would not pluck out the guests' eyes. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Wagner Doctor Faustus' student and servant: "Alas, poor slave! See how poverty jests in his nakedness. I know the villain's out of service, and so hungry that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood raw."
Robin a clown: "Not so, neither! I had need to have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear, I can tell you. ~ Christopher Marlowe

Sam, I know you're upset over what happened with you and Drake," Astrid began.
"Upset?" Sam echoed the word with an ironic smirk.
"But that's no excuse for you keeping secrets from us."
"Yeah," Howard said, "Don't you know only Astrid is allowed to keep secrets?"
"Shut up, Howard," Astrid snapped.
"Yeah, we get to lie because we're the smart ones," Howard said. "Not like all those idiots out there."
Astrid turned her attention back to Sam. "This is not okay, Sam. The council has the responsibility. Not you alone."
Sam looked like he could not care less about what she was saying. He looked almost beyond reach, indifferent to what was going on around him.
"Hey," Astrid said. "We're talking to you."
That did it. His jaw clenched. His head snapped up. His eyes blazed. "Don't push me. That wasn't you with your skin whipped off and covered in blood. That was me. That was me who went down into that mine shaft to try to fight the gaiaphage."
Astrid blinked. "No one is minimizing what you've done, Sam. You're a hero. But at the same time - "
Sam was on his feet. "At the same time? At the same time you were here in town. Edilio had a bullet in his chest. Dekka was torn to pieces. I was trying not to scream from the…You and Albert and Howard, you weren't there, were you?"
"I was busy standing up to Zil, trying to save Hunter's life," Astrid yelled.
"But it wasn't you and your big words, was it? It was Orc who stopped Zil. ~ Michael Grant

Lucas Delos stood over her, his body tense, his eyes scanning the distance for something that Helen couldn't see from her position on the ground.
"'Are you injured?'" he asked in a low, unsteady voice, still looking out over her head. There was blood on his lip and his shirt was torn.
Helen had a bare moment to say she was fine before she heard the sobbing sisters start to whisper. ~ Josephine Angelini

I want her to split me open, to dig her fingers in and pry open my ribs, lick my heart and my blood and my bones. Pick open my bones and suck out the marrow. I want to be devoured by her. And she wants to devour me just as badly. It's in every look, every movement, every smile. ~ Michelle Hodkin

Even if these two didn't share the same short dark hair, the same violet eyes, and the same flawless olive skin, I'd know they were related because of their most dominant feature-their habit of staring.
"I'm Chloe. This is my friend Emma, who apparently just head-butted your boyfriend Galen. We were in the middle of apologizing."
I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to ten-Mississippi, but fifty-Mississippi seems more appropriate. Fifty allows more time to fantasize about ripping one of Chloe's new waves out.
"Emma, what's wrong? Your nose isn't bleeding, is it?" She chirps, enjoying herself.
Tingles gather at my chin as Galen lifts it with the crook of his finger. "Is your nose bleeding? Let me see," he says. He tilts my head side to side, leans closer to get a good look.
And I meet my threshold for embarrassment. Tripping is bad enough. Tripping into someone is much worse. But if that someone has a body that could make sculpted statues jealous-and thinks you've broken your nose on one of his pecs-well, that's when tripping runs a distant second to humane euthanasia.
He is clearly surprised when I swat his hand and step away. His girlfriend/relative seems taken aback that I mimic his stance-crossed arms and deep frown. I doubt she has ever met her threshold for embarrassment.
"I said I was fine. No blood, no foul."
"This is my sister Rayna," he says, as if the conversation steered naturally in that direction. She smiles at me as if ~ Anna Banks

Southerners. Such literate, civilized folk, such charm and cleverness and passion for living, such genuine interest in people, all people, high and low, white and black, and yet how often it had come to, came to, was still coming to vicious incomprehension, usually over race but other things too - religion, class, money. How often the lowest elements had burst out of the shadows and hollers, guns and torches blazing, galloping past the educated and tolerant as nightriders, how often the despicable had run riot over the better Christian ideals... how often cities had burned, people had been strung up in trees, atrocities had been permitted to occur and then, in the seeking of justice for those outrages, how slippery justice had proven, how delayed its triumph. Oh you expect such easily obtained violence in the Balkans or among Asian or African tribal peoples centuries-deep in blood feuds, but how was there such brutality and wickedness in this place of church and good intention, a place of immense friendliness and charity and fondness for the rituals of family and socializing, amid the nation's best cooking and best music... how could one place contain the other place? ~ Wilton Barnhardt

Drink," he said.
I pressed my mouth to the wound, first lapping up the blood as it flowed out, and then sucking deeply from it. I had only tasted blood a few times before, when I had sucked on an injured fingertip. The blood I now imbibed was nothing like the mild, slightly salty liquid that ran in my own veins. Dracula's blood was delicious. It tasted like a deep, rich, full-bodied wine, with a dark, delectable tang. It was ambrosia; I felt as if I could not get enough of it. As I drank, I heard him give an ecstatic little moan. His hand cradled the back of my head and held it there, urging me to continue, while his other hand found and clasped both my hands lovingly in his. ~ Syrie James

At high school I was never comfortable for a minute. I did not know about Lonnie. Before an exam, she got icy hands and palpitations, but I was close to despair at all times. When I was asked a question in class, any simple little question at all, my voice was apt to come out squeaky, or else hoarse and trembling. When I had to go to the blackboard I was sure - even at a time of the month when this could not be true - that I had blood on my skirt. My hands became slippery with sweat when they were required to work the blackboard compass. I could not hit the ball in volleyball; being called upon to perform an action in front of others made all my reflexes come undone. I hated Business Practice because you had to rule pages for an account book, using a straight pen, and when the teacher looked over my shoulder all the delicate lines wobbled and ran together. I hated Science; we perched on stools under harsh lights behind tables of unfamiliar, fragile equipment, and were taught by the principal of the school, a man with a cold, self-relishing voice - he read the Scriptures every morning - and a great talent for inflicting humiliation. I hated English because the boys played bingo at the back of the room while the teacher, a stout, gentle girl, slightly cross-eyed, read Wordsworth at the front. She threatened them, she begged them, her face red and her voice as unreliable as mine. They offered burlesqued apologies and when she started to read again they took up rapt postures, mad ~ Alice Munro

Wow. Hindsight didn't just make things crystal clear; it smacked me upside the head and knocked some sense into me. "I get it."

"I don't think you do. This" - he gestured impatiently at himself - "is just a fucking shell. You're what drives me, Eva. Can you understand that? You're my heart and soul. If something ever happened to you, it would kill me, too. Keeping you safe is goddamned self-preservation! Tolerate it for me, if you won't do it for yourself."

I surged into him, knocking him off-balance and onto his back. I kissed him hard, my heart pounding and blood roaring in my ears. "I hate to freak you out," I muttered between desperate kisses, "but you've got it real bad for me. ~ Sylvia Day

But I can't clean your blood and yours, I'm afraid, is tainted. We'll educate you, feed and clothe you, send you out into the world. But I can't do anything to purify your blood. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones