Written In The Blood Quotes

He couldn't even remember her name any more. when, he caught himself wondering, had he started to forget? ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

I've always said the world is filled with as much wonder as sorrow. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

In all his years he had not seen one as ancient as this, so obviously belonging to a world far older than his own. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

We've been to secretive, perhaps. For long periods in our shared history, that was a necessity born from conflict. But it is not, I am prepared to accept, a style of living compatible with the modern age. It is difficult to maintain trust that way. Even among friends. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

For years she had lived in a vacuum of emotions, and now emotions boiled in her: love, fear, hope, shame, self-pity, pride; each struggled for supremacy, ruling only briefly, before surrendering to a contender that was sometimes darker and sometimes lighter, but always different. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

This vocation of yours.
She knew that a hunger dwelled in her, in that place where happier emotions should reside, a hunger she could neither sate nor deny. While her compulsion to scratch that itch never faded, she knew that she performed a service to the world in these coll west London rooms. While it was work for which she would receive not a single word of thanks, its value, Etienne believed, could not be denied. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

The history of each and every territory is written in the blood of those who died trying to fulfill the aspirations of their ambitious leaders. ~ D.J. MacHale

perhaps that's what we thought we were. Benevolent gods.
Now look at us. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

I am to be judged today. But tomorrow, in the way treat an innocent, you will all be judged. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She noticed a bitter aroma of a extinguished cigar, the citrus scent of cologne. And underneath those, an electric odour of excitement, of barely controlled fury. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Perhaps it was a tacit acknowledgement of her tendency to find danger, to gravitate towards self-destruction, but she'd been terrified of heights all her life. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Twice damned, in truth, and yet by quirk of timing and fate accepted into that society denied to so many others. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

What year was it now? He couldn't even say. But finally, the task to which he'd dedicated himself was done. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She never liked the man. What she saw now, she liked even less. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Whatever had arrived to save her had not spoken, had not announced itself with anything except the silent killing it brought. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Her beauty was matchless, face so elegantly crafted that she appeared ethereal; unreal. But while nature had clearly bestowed the gift of physical perfection, it had not breathed the warmth of humanity into its creation. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

An apology, even as sincere as the one she had just received, could repair not one hour of the suffering she had endured over the last one hundred years, but ... her thoughts trailed away from her and her mouth fell open. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

when she realised he was enjoying the cut-glass shrill of silence that followed, she felt a hatred for him so extreme that had it found physical release, he would have dropped to the floor with every bone in his body shattered. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

I share that pain. Those events have sparked anger, resentment, further division. I empathise with your anger. I understand your resentment. More than anything, I seek to heal that division. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

There is an ancient Indian saying that something lives only as long as the last person who remembers it. My people have come to trust memory over history. Memory, like fire, is radiant and immutable while history serves only those who seek to control it, those who douse the flame of memory in order to put out the dangerous fire of truth. Beware these men for they are dangerous themselves and unwise. Their false history is written in the blood of those who might remember and of those who seek the truth. ~ Floyd Red Crow Westerman

We're talking about an awareness; pure consciousness, if you like. If it helps, think of our interpretation of the soul. Do you believe you have a soul? Whether you do or you don't, it's a device that features regularly in mythology. the only difference, here, is that whereas we generally consider our souls tethered to a single body during our physical experience, the tolvajok have no such restrictions. They simply need a host. And when one host starts to die, they go on and take another. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She was an impostor here, unfit to be around these innocent lives. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

On its rocky tip, dominating the scenery for miles around, stood he Villa dell'Ossevatore. Breathtakingly beautiful, it comprised three individual buildings and a single watchtower, roofed in terracotta tile and connected by stone bridges and loggias. Its lush gardens and lawns encircled the peninsula in steadily descending terraces, and a wide stone-built staircase hugged the rock all the way down to the waterline, terminating at a landing stage edged with balustrades. Higher up the hillside she saw the pergolas straining under the branches of ancient wisteria, and huge displays of azaleas and camellias. Ivy clung to the west-facing sides of the buildings and curled among its statues. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

It's like a pint right here, an emptiness. There's nothing I can do to fill it. If you're telling me I can't have you, if you're really telling me that, I just don't know what I'll do. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She tried, and failed, to stop herself from shaking. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

When she kissed his mouth, she tasted blood and swallowed it. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

As if this was normal.
As if nothing had happened during the night. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

In every house, there was always one malcontent jealous prick out to destroy everyone else just for spite. The entire history of the earth was written in the blood of those betrayed by the very people they'd foolishly trusted. (Stryker) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Somehow he's looked inside me and he's seen what lurks in there: that even in my grief, all I worry about is myself. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She could not hope to overcome him, but if she could find a blade quickly enough, if she could open her wrists. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Her words might have been meant for another, but they had the quality of sunlight nonetheless. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

A few minutes later, he heard, floating down the hallway outside, the steady creak of bedsprings, a metronomic nightmare in the darkness. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

- I want to atone -
He couldn't of course. Nothing he did now could atone fully for what he had done. But he could do one thing. Just one thing. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Not ignoble. Don't torture yourself over it. I can't change the past but I can, hopefully, ease your fears from the future. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Can I blame them? they're sick with fear. We've grown too entrenched here, too entwined. Too immersed in the beating heart of this city, this country, this region, We've grown heavy and fat on our our wealth, collective power. We've become addicted to our influence, our mystique. And it's all a myth. An illusion. A crystal tower, standing on sand. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

even now, the building raised a conflicting set of emotions in her: memories of pain and loss, but also of healing and discovery. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She preferred fear to misplaced confidence. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

She nodded, knowing that he toyed with her, lightening her anguish, but she had no power in this exchange. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

It broke over him, a frothing, churning sea a images and sound, so vivid he had to close his eyes against it and hold his breath. Faces long dead; words spoken and heard; professions of love and regret and hate; episodes of intimacy as painful to recall as those characterised by violence. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Ins't that the point? It's neither your right, nor your privilege, to sit in judgement of anyone. Certainly not a people about whom you know so little. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

Pointless to question the sanity of it. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

They say there's as many as four hundred billion stars in our galaxy" he murmured. "And our galaxy's just one in perhaps five hundred billion others. That's about seventy each of you, me and every other human who walks the earth". ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

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

The last begonias wilting in the chalet's hanging baskets laced the air with a lemon and cinnamon fragrance. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

He had imagined he wanted a hundred things; a thousand. But really, even though he had not spoken his answer aloud, he found he only wanted one.
- I want this to end - ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

All friendships experiences challenges, periods of difficulty. But true friendships also endure. True friendships heal. ask yourself if this is a true friendship and I hope you'll agree that is what we have. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

And then a monstrous idea jumped into her head, a thought so ruthless and dark she almost fled from the contemplation of it. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

For so many years she'd lived a life absent of emotion or companionship or love. She'd functioned as an automaton, acting out her part without feeling, lacking even the introspection to ask why she'd cast herself in this role, or where it all might end. It hadn't even been a lonely existence because she felt no loneliness; she felt nothing. Whereas now, she felt everything. Emotions festered in her; fear pecked like a carrion bird, guilt ripped and chewed. And, at her core, that crushing sense of hopelessness, threatening to consume everything that she'd started to become. ~ Stephen Lloyd Jones

The history of progress is written in the blood of men and women who have dared to espouse an unpopular cause, as, for instance, the black man's right to his body, or woman's right to her soul. ~ Emma Goldman

I can't tell you how I felt when my father died. But I was able to write Song of Solomon and imagine, not him, and not his specific interior life, but the world that he inhabited and the private or interior life of the people in it. And I can't tell you how I felt reading to my grandmother while she was turning over and over in her bed (because she was dying, and she was not comfortable), but I could try to reconstruct the world that she lived in. And I have suspected, more often than not, that I know more than she did, that I know more than my grandfather and my great-grandmother did, but I also know that I'm no wiser than they were. And whenever I have tried earnestly to diminish their vision and prove to myself that I know more, and when I have tried to speculate on their interior life and match it up with my own, I have been overwhelmed every time by the richness of theirs compared to my own. Like Frederick Douglass talking about his grandmother, and James Baldwin talking about his father, and Simone de Beauvoir talking about her mother, these people are my access to me; they are my entrance into my own interior life. Which is why the images that float around them--the remains, so to speak, at hte archeological site--surface first, and they surface so vividly and so compellingly that I acknowledge them as my route to a reconstruction of a world, to an exploration of an interior life that was not written and to the revelation of a kind of truth. ~ Toni Morrison

Along with Islam and Christianity, Judaism does insist that some turgid and contradictory and sometimes evil and mad texts, obviously written by fairly unexceptional humans, are in fact the word of god. I think that the indispensable condition of any intellectual liberty is the realisation that there is no such thing. ~ Christopher Hitchens

Random House, in the catbird seat, since it gets to recite last, declares in 1966, "The use of like in place of as is universally condemned by teachers and editors, notwithstanding its wide currency, especially in advertising slogans. Do as I say, not as I do does not admit of like instead of as. In an occasional idiomatic phrase, it is somewhat less offensive when substituted for as if (He raced down the street like crazy), but this example is clearly colloquial and not likely to be found in any but the most informal written contexts." I find this excellent. It even tells who will hurt you if you make a mistake, and it withholds aid and comfort from those friends of cancer and money, those greedy enemies of the language who teach our children to say after school, "Winston tastes good like a cigarette should. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

We blame you for floods
for the flush of blood
for men who are also wolves
and even though you could pull
the tide in by its hair
we tell people that we walked all
over you
we blame you for the night
for the dark
for the ghosts
you cold unimaginable thing
following us home,
we use you
to see each others frail
naked bodies beneath your blue light,
we let you watch; you
swollen against the glass
breath a halo of steam
as we move against one another
wet and desperate
like fish under
a waterlogged sky. ~ Warsan Shire

In this world laws are written for the lofty aim of "the common good" and then acted out in life on the basis of the common greed. In this world irrationality clings to man like his shadow so that the right things get done for the wrong reasons?afterwards, we dredge up the right reasons for justification. It is a world not of angels but of angles, where men speak of moral principles but act on power principles; a world where we are always moral and our enemies always immoral; a world where "reconciliation" means that when one side gets the power and the other side gets reconciled to it. ~ Saul Alinsky

We were granted the right to exist by the God of our fathers at the glimmer of the dawn of human civilization nearly 4,000 years ago. For that right, which has been sanctified in Jewish blood from generation to generation, we have paid a price unexampled in the annals of the nations. ~ Menachem Begin

What a dull universe it would be if everything in it conformed to our expectations, if it held nothing to surprise or baffle us or confound our common sense. A century ago no one foresaw the existence of black holes, an expanding universe, oceans on Jupiter's moons, or DNA. What could be more enriching than to know that we share a common origin with all living things, that we are kin to chimpanzees, redwoods and mollusks? And isn't it a source of wonder to realize that the iron in our blood and the calcium in our bones were created in the bellies of supernovas? ~ Steven Pinker

Passers-by

Passers-by,
Out of your many faces
Flash memories to me
Now at the day end
Away from the sidewalks
Where your shoe soles traveled
And your voices rose and blent
To form the city's afternoon roar
Hindering an old silence.

Passers-by,
I remember lean ones among you,
Throats in the clutch of a hope,
Lips written over with strivings,
Mouths that kiss only for love,
Records of great wishes slept with,
Held long
And prayed and toiled for:

Yes,
Written on
Your mouths
And your throats
I read them
When you passed by. ~ Carl Sandburg

I think that 'Flesh and Bone' represents the dance world very authentically. There's always this aspect of drama put on top of it, and it's showcasing the problems of the dance world, but I've had experiences in reality that were written into the show. ~ Sarah Hay

Seeing what was needed in the hospital firsthand - someone needs to come in and just be with patients, without trying to take their blood or change the bedpan, and to give them human-to-human touch. ~ Colleen Saidman

You don't think it's a little relevant that the guy who is supposed to die in the next year is dating the girl who's supposed to kill her true love with a kiss?"

She was too angry to do anything but shake her head. He merely raised an eyebrow in reply, an action that warmed the temperature of Blue's blood by a single degree. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

You're going to die in your best friend's arms. And you play along because it's funny, because it's written down, you've memorized it, it's all you know. I say the phrases that keep it all going, and everybody plays along. ~ Richard Siken

It wasn't innocent blood. To my father nothing about Amalia ever seemed innocent. He, so furious, so bitter and yet so eager for pleasure, so irascible and so egotistical, couldn't bear that she had a friendly, at times even joyful, relationship with the world. He recognized in it a trace of betrayal. ~ Elena Ferrante

Wealth begins ... in giving on all sides by tools and auxiliaries the greatest possible extension to our powers; as if it added feet and hands and eyes and blood ... ~ Marsilio Ficino

We greatly want a brief word to express the science of improving stock, which is by no means confined to questions of judicious mating, but which, especially in the case of man, takes cognizance of all influences that tend in however remote a degree to give to the more suitable races or strains of blood a better chance of prevailing speedily over the less suitable than they otherwise would have had. The word eugenics would sufficiently express the idea. ~ Francis Galton

I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. ~ George S. Patton

Your entire being can become a scream. At the edge of a hurled knife, that fast. Karou's did. She wasn't flesh and blood in that instant but only air rushing in to gather for a scream that might never end. ~ Laini Taylor

It was wonderful to walk down the long flights of stairs knowing that I'd had good luck working. I always worked until I had something done and I always stopped when I knew what was going to happen next. That way I could be sure of going on the next day. But sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, "Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that you knew or had seen or had heard someone say. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

Is everything forbidden us except to fold our arms? Poverty is not written in the stars; under development is not one of God's mysterious designs. ~ Eduardo Galeano

The evening was a string of miserable minutes strung together in tiny clusters. Three minutes for a man shot through the shoulder; Ellis put first a finger in the entry wound and then another in the exit and when his fingers touched, he decided the man was only lightly injured and didn't need a surgeon. Three minutes to set a broken wrist and splint it with a strip of cowhide and a piece of wood from a sycamore tree. Two minutes to tourniquet a leg, then extract a piece of wire deep in the meat of it. A minute to peek under a pink, saturated bandage several inches below a slender belly button; he saw thin, red water leaking from a hole and smelled urine, knew the ball had breached the bladder. It would either heal or it wouldn't, but nothing to do about it so he set the soul aside, a case not to be operated upon. He turned a man's head looking for the source of a trickle of blood and had ten terrible minutes trying to stop torrential bleeding from under his clavicle; frantic moments during which he could get neither a finger nor a clamp around the pulsating source. All bleeding stops eventually though, and the case did not violate the rule. He took two minutes to settle his own breathing, then four minutes sewing a torn scalp, and half a minute saying a prayer over a fat, cigar-shaped dead man. After awhile, he had the impression he wasn't seeing men, but parts - an exploded chest, a blood swolled thigh, a busted jaw with its teeth spat to the wind or swallowed.

I ~ Edison McDaniels

Indie Rokkers"

i like the line between your belly and your thighs
the smell of your hair
the sparkle in your eyes
the smoke in your breath
the breathing hard and heavy
the back of your neck
the shine on your Chevy
the moon was so big when i drove it to the levy, girl

i found blood and i saw stars
all in the backseat of your car
and i told you it was love
but you don't wanna know the truth
i was young and in my prime
with my heart still filled with fear
and it goes on bleedin'

the clean dreams, the sexy limousine
Jason's (?) got the energy he used to be a coke fien
the skinny brown arms coming round in your shirt
heart is in the right place brain is in the dirt
you live life like everyone's an enemy

i found blood and i saw stars
all in the backseat of your car
and i told you it was love
but you don't wanna know the truth
i was young and in my prime
with my heart still filled with fear
and it goes on bleedin ~ MGMT

Ultimately, Leibniz argued, there are only two absolutely simple concepts, God and Nothingness. From these, all other concepts may be constructed, the world, and everything within it, arising from some primordial argument between the deity and nothing whatsoever. And then, by some inscrutable incandescent insight, Leibniz came to see that what is crucial in what he had written is the alternation between God and Nothingness. And for this, the numbers 0 and 1 suffice. ~ David Berlinski

I saw a painting once where the artist had actually done that
signed his work in blood ... When I saw that, I thought it was as if the man who had painted the picture wanted to say to me, Well, you did ask what this actually cost. ~ Neil Bartlett

I WALK IN / I SEE YOU / I WATCH YOU / I SCAN YOU / I WAIT FOR YOU / I TICKLE YOU / I TEASE YOU / I SEARCH YOU / I BREATHE YOU / I TALK / I SMILE / I TOUCH YOUR HAIR / YOU ARE THE ONE / YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DID THIS TO ME / YOU ARE MY OWN / I SHOW YOU / I FEEL YOU / I ASK YOU / I DON'T ASK / I DON'T WAIT / I WON'T ASK YOU / I CAN'T TELL YOU / I LIE / I AM CRYING HARD / THERE WAS BLOOD / NO ONE TOLD ME / NO ONE KNEW / MY MOTHER KNOWS / I FORGET YOUR NAME / I DON'T THINK / I BURY MY HEAD / I BURY YOUR HEAD / I BURY YOU / MY FEVER / MY SKIN / I CANNOT BREATHE / I CANNOT EAT / I CANNOT WALK / I AM LOSING TIME / I AM LOSING TIME / I AM LOSING GROUND / I CANNOT STAND IT / I CRY / I CRY OUT / I BITE / I BITE YOUR LIP / I BREATHE YOUR BREATH / I PULSE / I PRAY / I PRAY ALOUD / I SMELL YOU ON MY SKIN / I SAY THE WORD / I SAY YOUR NAME / I COVER YOU / I SHELTER YOU / I RUN FROM YOU / I SLEEP BESIDE YOU / I SMELL YOU ON MY CLOTHES / I KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ~ Jenny Holzer

War and peace. There are blurred lines in the realities of both. A separation anxiety as the paradigm shifts from the air that a sniper wears on his face (real life, entertainment for the masses or the propaganda machine you decide), to the blueprint of an assassination in a driveway (Chris Hani lying in a pool of his own blood). You know that we cannot eat stones but we can burn, butcher, necklace, murder, forcibly remove and displace entire families, races of different faiths in the name of apartheid. Nelson Mandela, Steve Biko and Chris Hani instruments of change, war, tolerance or peace. The Romantics got it right before anyone else did. Truth is beauty. The truth is South Africa is not cool anymore. ~ Abigail George

I have recently observed and stated that the serum of normal people is capable of clumping the red cells of other healthy individuals ... As commonly expressed, it can be said that in these cases at least two different kinds of agglutinins exist, one kind in A, the other in B, both together in C. The cells are naturally insensitive to the agglutinins in their own serum. ~ Karl Landsteiner

Tell me about the farm," she pleaded as drops of blood began to appear on her hand.
"The farm?"
"The farm that Finnikin the peasant would have lived on with his bride."
"Evanjalin. That was her name. Did I mention that?"
She laughed through a sob. "No, you didn't."
"They would plant rows upon rows of wheat and barley, and each night they would sit under the stars to admire what they owned. Oh, and they would argue. She believes the money made would be better spent on a horse, and he believes they need a new barn. But then later they would forget all their anger and he would hold her fiercely and never let her go."
"And he'd place marigolds in her hair?" she asked.
He clasped her hands against his and watched her blood seep through the lines of his skin. "And he would love her until the day he died," he said. ~ Melina Marchetta

IMAGINE YOU ARE Siri Keeton. You wake in an agony of resurrection, gasping after a record-shattering bout of sleep apnea spanning one hundred forty days. You can feel your blood, syrupy with dobutamine and leuenkephalin, forcing its way through arteries shriveled by months on standby. The body inflates in painful increments: blood vessels dilate, flesh peels apart from flesh, ribs crack in your ears with sudden unaccustomed flexion. Your joints have seized up through disuse. You're a stick man, frozen in some perverse rigor vitae. You'd scream if you had the breath. ~ Peter Watts

I was drawn to horses as if they were magnets. It was in my blood. I must have inherited from my grandfather a genetic proclivity toward the equine species. Perhaps there's a quirk in the DNA that makes horse people different from everyone else, that instantly divides humanity into those who love horses and the others, who simply don't know. ~ Allan J. Hamilton

The real reason why so many artists now take to politics, 'commitment' and so on is that they are rushing into a discipline, any discipline at all, which will save them from the poison of the word 'artist' used by the enemy.
I remember very clearly the moments in which that novel was born. The pulse beat, violently; afterwards, when I knew I would write, I worked out what I would write. The 'subject' was almost immaterial. Yet now what interests me is precisely this - why did I not write an account of what had happened, instead of shaping a 'story' which had nothing to do with the material that fuelled it. Of course, the straight, simple, formless account would not have been a 'novel', and would not have got published, but I was genuinely not interested in 'being a writer' or even in making money. I am not talking now of that game writers play with themselves when writing, the psychological game - that written incident came from that real incident, that character was transposed from that one in life, this relationship was the psychological twin of that. I am simply asking myself: Why a story at all - not that it was a bad story, or untrue, or that it debased anything. Why not, simply, the truth? ~ Doris Lessing

I put ten sugar cubes in my coffee. I drank it through my tongue, and my blood sang like the Archangel Gabriel as the sugar flooded in. That can't be natural ~ David Mitchell

For the jungle dissolves and recreates over and over and over again, as the Hindu philosophers perceived millenniums ago and built their religion on it. All that we know of things that died more anciently than a month ago, is written in stone or brick or earthwork, or, perhaps more durable even than these, in legend. ~ John Still

Or was their guilt written plainly, and for all the world to see, across their face? Was it their face, in fact, for which they were guilty? ~ Julie Otsuka

Everything written, if it has anything in it, will offend someone, and if the mere taking of offence was to amount to a licence to kill the offender, well the world would be sadly underpopulated of novelists, columnists, bloggers, and the writers of editorials. ~ Rex Murphy

In perfect unison, all the townspeople vomited gouts of blood onto the pavement. ~ Stephen R. Donaldson

The Greek word that Jesus said on the cross and that we interpret as
"It is finished " is the Greek
word tetelestai. Tetelestai
comes from the verb teleo, which means to bring to an end, to complete,
to accomplish.
In the times of Jesus, receipts often had the word tetelestai
written on them. This word meant that the receipt or debt was paid in full. ~ Jane Wheeler