Top 100 Black Blood Quotes
#1. My love is a thousand French poets puking black blood on your Cure CD collection.
Henry Rollins
#2. The one-drop rule had never made any sense to him. If one drop of black blood made you black, why didn't one drop of white blood make you white? And hadn't anyone noticed yet that everybody's blood was red?
Tiffany Reisz
#3. The boy looks into Mugwump eyes blank as obsidian mirrors, pools of black blood, glory holes in a toilet wall closing on the Last Erection.
William S. Burroughs
#4. Negro blood is sure powerful, because just one drop of black blood makes a colored man. One drop
you are a Negro! ... Black is powerful.
Langston Hughes
#5. I am proud of my black roots and of the black blood that runs in my veins.
Ryan Giggs
#6. The racist conscience of America is such that murder does not register as murder really, unless the victim is whiteblacks knew that white blood is the coin of freedom in a land where for four hundred years black blood has been shed unremarked and with impunity.
Eldridge Cleaver
#7. All writers pen sad stories to garner sympathy, writing is after all for the abandoned of the society: the ink-leech, spewing black blood and sucking innocent souls.
Aporva Kala
#8. There's a thing called the 'One Drop' theory in African-American culture, which is if you have one drop of black blood in you, you're black.
Keegan-Michael Key
#9. In her dreams, blood tasted like fizzy strawberry soda. If you drank it too fast, you got brain freeze. When she was older, after she'd licked a cut on her finger, the taste of that became the taste in her dreams: copper and tears.
Holly Black
#10. Poetry has acquired a fluffy image, which is totally at odds with its real nature. It's not pastel colours, but blood-red and black. If you don't obey it as a force in your life, it will tear you to pieces.
Gwyneth Lewis
#11. You're as cowardly as a g
weasel. You know that? A weasel. That's what you are."
"You don't know me," I say, spitting blood onto the dirt. I can't help it. I start to laugh. "And you obviously don't know much about weasels, either.
Holly Black
#12. Ketch all alone with a black crew from Malaita. And Romance lured and beckoned before Joan's eyes when she learned he was Christian Young, a Norfolk Islander, but a direct descendant of John Young, one of the original Bounty mutineers. The blended Tahitian and English blood showed in his soft
Jack London
#13. Ng Security Industries Semi-Autonomous Guard Unit #A-367 lives in a pleasant black-and-white Metaverse where porterhouse steaks grow on trees, dangling at head level from low branches, and blood-drenched Frisbees fly through the crisp, cool air for no reason at all, until you catch them.
Neal Stephenson
#14. The question: What color is my parachute?
The answer: blood red, brains gray, sludge black.
Jesse Petersen
#15. The white face of the winter day came sluggishly on, veiled in a frosty mist; and the shadowy ships in the river slowly changed to black substances; and the sun, blood-red on the eastern marshes behind dark masts and yards, seemed filled with the ruins of a forest it had set on fire.
Charles Dickens
#16. Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.
Karen Chance
#17. In a
few hours, she'll see Anna for herself. She'll see
her dressed in blood, her hair floating like it's
suspended in water, eyes black and shining. And
when she does, she won't be able to catch her
breath.
Kendare Blake
#18. Thud, thud, thud, riderless black horse with red eyes coming down the halls of his mind, ironshod hooves digging up soft gray clods of brain tissue, leaving hoofprints to fill up with mystic crescents of blood.
Stephen King
#19. I stare fixedly at the little black specks on the sheet. For a while, they're obscured by the residual blood droplets that I can't seem to wipe from my vision. Slowly, the words come into focus.
Suzanne Collins
#20. I have a weak stomach. My wife is a doctor, so she finds it funny that I actually pass out when I get my blood drawn. I physically can't stand gore on screen. I can't stand blood and guts. Not for any puritanical/moral high-ground reason. I just don't want to black out.
Christopher Denham
#21. Black is a good color anytime you're flinging around blood.
Richard Kadrey
#22. Even somebody like The Black Keys or Royal Blood, they all have this original roots base to what they do.
Paul Weller
#23. I advise you to be suspicious of any black American whose family does not claim a blood connection to Native Americans. That's a clear sign of a racial infiltrator who has not done enough research.
Baratunde R. Thurston
#24. Her skin was as white as snow, her lips as red as blood, and her long hair as black as ebony.
C.J. Redwine
#25. Red was the blood of the siblings massacred in the North, black was for mourning them, green was for the prosperity Biafra would have, and, finally, the half of a yellow sun stood for the glorious future.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
#26. A murderer's light spilled out from the sunset. It flooded William Street with its ruddy glow and ran beneath the blue-black hail clouds and up the boulevard like hot blood.
Richard Flanagan
#27. The sky over Patusan was blood-red, immense, streaming like an open vein. An enormous sun nestled crimson amongst the treetops, and the forest below had a black and forbidding face.
Joseph Conrad
#28. Maybe like the bat in the birdcage, Gavriel had been waiting for dark, waiting to get out of the chains, drink Aidan's blood, and escape. But when she showed up, he figured he could use them for a ride through daylight, so long as he seemed harmless enough to need saving. A chill crept up her spine.
Holly Black
#29. Kaye: You know what the sun looks like? Janet: No, What? Kaye: Like he slit his wrists in a bathtub and the blood is all over the water. Janet: That's gross, Kaye. Kaye: And the moon is just watching. She's just watching him die. She must have driven him to it.
Holly Black
#30. All the religious wars that have caused blood to be shed for centuries arise from passionate feelings and facile counter-positions, such as Us and Them, good and bad, white and black.
Umberto Eco
#31. He got off on Lincoln and slavery and dared any man there to deny that Lincoln and the negro and Moses and the children of Israel were the same, and that the Red Sea was just the blood that had to be spilled in order that the black race might cross into the Promised Land.
William Faulkner
#32. Red, for the blood of angry men, black, for the night that will finally end.
Victor Hugo
#33. The mercury light doesn't show red. It makes the blood in your skin look blue-black. But see how splendidly it brings out the green in the plants.
Charles Proteus Steinmetz
#34. I would assign every lie a color: yellow when they were innocent, pale blue when they sailed over you like the sky, red because I knew they drew blood. And then there was the black lie. That's the worst of all. A black lie was when I told you the truth.
Steve Martin
#35. The only aspect of his appearance to match his legend was his eyes: black as jet and piercing as a hawk's. They said his eyes could strip man's soul bare, that no secret could be hidden if he met your gaze.
Anthony Ryan
#36. Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.
Jacob Grimm
#38. Did the poet use red to symbolize blood? Anger? Lust? Or is the wheelbarrow simply red because red sounded better than black?
Jay Asher
#39. I had the opportunity of making necropsies on patients dead from malignant fever and of studying the melanaemia, i.e., the formation of black pigment in the blood of patients affected by malaria.
Charles Louis Alphonse Laveran
#40. Oh Demonation, the noise he made! Its colour - blue and black with streaks of orange - were as bright as the blood that gushed from his arms.
Various
#41. My boy, you are by blood, by appearance, by education, and by tastes a white man. Now, why do you want to throw your life away amidst the poverty and ignorance, in the hopeless struggle, of the black people of the United States?
James Weldon Johnson
#42. I vant to zuk your blood." He waved his black gloved hands above his head as he tried out his awful Transylvanian accent. "You vish," She replied.
J.L. Bryan
#43. I know real dirt looks nothing like this. Nothing like soft blood flecked with black bone.
Catherynne M Valente
#44. What did it mean for a black woman to be an artist in our grandmothers' time? In our great-grandmothers' day? It is an answer cruel enough to stop the blood.
Alice Walker
#45. We have come over a way that with tears has been watered, We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered.
James Weldon Johnson
#46. In the gun game, we are the most hunted. The river of blood that washes the streets of our nation flows mostly from the bodies of our black children,
Harry Belafonte
#47. Aye, you white dog, you are like all your race; but to a black man gold can never pay for blood.
Robert E. Howard
#48. I stand before you,
naked as clear water.
To be with you,
in blood and soul
into your fire storm.
Even at your
darkest when your
heart is a Black Forest,
I stand with commitment .
Joyce Carol Oates
#49. The red priestess shuddered. Blood trickled down her thigh, black and smoking. The fire was inside her, an agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover's hand.
George R R Martin
#50. It was a sort of infinite monster, tossing its million heads and frothing at its million mouths as it hungered to devour the city," he wrote. "I stood there and heard the monster's growl - his cry for blood - and looked into the black terror of his murderous frown.
Leigh Jones
#51. I am Tersa the Weaver, Tersa the Liar, Tersa the Fool.
Anne Bishop
#52. from the poem: MANNEQUINS THAT SWEAT BLACK INK AND NEVER HAVE ANY FUN
If you put a twizzler in your ear it looks like your ear is vomiting blood.
Sam Pink
#53. For I know that Death is a guest divine, Who shall drink my blood as I drink this wine. - William Winter
Holly Black
#54. Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles.
"Thank you, Rachel," he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened.
"Welcome back, my itchy witch.
Kim Harrison
#55. Looking up at that starry sky gave him the creeps: it was too big, too black. It was all too possible to imagine it turning blood-red, all too possible to imagine a Face forming in lines of fire.
Stephen King
#56. I was just very interested in the American frontier and the growth of capitalism - those enormous fortunes that were being made, more often than not, on the blood of poor people, black people, Indian people. They were the ones who paid very dearly for those great fortunes.
Peter Matthiessen
#57. Who are the slumlords in the Black community? The so-called Jews. ... Who is it sucking our blood in the Black community? A white imposter Arab and a white imposter Jew.
Louis Farrakhan
#58. Jealousy can open the blood, it can make black roses.
Sylvia Plath
#59. Feet, wearing a black rubber gas mask that obscured his face. His chest was bare, covered in dried blood. All he wore was stained white underwear, and combat boots, their laces untied.
Jack Kilborn
#60. Escape from the black widow spider is a miracle as great as art. what a web she can weave slowly drawing you to her she'll embrace you then when she's satisfied she'll kill you still in her embrace and suck the blood from you.
Charles Bukowski
#61. Your blood's black. It's like mine. I'll always be inside you.
Kresley Cole
#62. Her father had proven to them all: when a beating heart stopped, there was no black or white, only blood-red.
Sarah McCoy
#63. Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream
Sylvia Plath
#64. Loyalty is never built upon honor, brother. It is built upon blood.
Rachel E. Carter
#65. The leader, a big-bellied Mexican wearing a huge sombrero, sat in a black saddle studded with silver conchos. Spurs jingled at the heels of his boots. A necklace of human ears hung from around his neck. The blood on them still looked fairly fresh.
James Axler
#66. Shivering, she would lie awake imagining her veins sluggish with frozen blood, ice crystals weaving a coral-like shining net around her heart. Her dreams were full of black seas and ice floes and frozen lakes ...
Cassandra Clare
#67. When the black and mortal blood of man has fallen to the ground ... who then can sing spells to call it back again?
Aeschylus
#68. Slim young women were swathed in chic black dresses, here to attend a ceremony in one of the hotel's many reception rooms. They wore small but expensive accessories, like vampire finches in search of blood, longing for a hint of light they could reflect.
Haruki Murakami
#69. I read 'Sabella or The Blood Stone' by Tanith Lee, which was hugely influential to me. I love Tanith's writing. She's just really lyrical, beautiful use of language.
Holly Black
#70. The Crimson Pirate, The Mark of Zorro, Captain Blood, The Black Pirate, Adventures of Don Juan, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Sea Hawk, The Prisoner of Zenda, Scaramouche,
Cary Elwes
#71. Her blood felt laced with black powder. How could she have forgotten what it was like to burn on a fuse before him?
Marie Rutkoski
#72. Islamic history is written in two types of ink. Black for the ink of the scholars and red for the blood of the martyrs!
Me
#73. 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 sea.
Daphne Du Maurier
#74. His blood is black and boiling hot, he gurgles ghastly groans. He'll cook you in his dinner pot, your skin, your flesh, your bones.
Jack Prelutsky
#75. I also knew about Brady's photographs of the dead at Antietam: I'd seen the pictures online, pin-eyed boys black with blood at the nose and mouth.
Anonymous
#77. Dive deep into the ocean, Sita, and you will find that the greatest treasures you find are the illusions you leave behind.
Christopher Pike
#78. 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
#79. Four are the tributaries of the great river. Four are the harvests from floodseason to dust. Four are the great treasures: timbalin, myrrh, lapis, and jungissa. Four bands of color mark the face of the Dreaming Moon. Red for blood. White for seed. Yellow for ichor. Black for bile.
N.K. Jemisin
#80. My story has more than a "great white hope" plot. I loved and respected Tom because he was a servant of God who happened to be white, just as I feel I am a servant of God who happens to be black and from Africa.
Francis Mandewah
#81. The silent horror of Archie's ordeal had been temporarily replaced by the howling, agonising pain of the blood refusing to drain from his penis, the end of which was a deep purple verging on black where Officer Griff had tested how hard it was by using the back of his hand to give it a solid twang.
Dylan Perry
#82. Wooden stakes could render a vampire weak and useless, until the heart began to heal. Sunlight charred their flesh to a flaky, black tissue, but rarely did it kill them completely. But dead blood... one lethal dose of that stuff and it was good riddance. Sayonara, bloodsucker.
Lindsey Beth Goddard
#83. A sign read "Free drinks for billiards competitors only." Hand-lettered below read "All others will pay." It was written in blood. I could tell because a red fairy with what looked like black insect wings was writing it at the time, with his own dismembered finger.
Red Tash
#84. She swallowed his blood, a dark vintage from some forgotten cellar. She felt like Persephone in Hades, pomegranate seeds bursting against her teeth, juice rolling on her tongue, and the more she had, the more she hungered.
Holly Black
#85. My knee struck a tree root as my vision went black. Suddenly, I was in a building at Haven Crest, kneeling on the floor. Blood, thick and clotted like canned cherries, crept down the walls. The lights above my head flickered off then on with a menacing hum.
Kady Cross
#86. Nine lies on his back, groaning. His chest is shredded from where Eight slashed him, he's got a fresh black eye, and I think I notice a trickle of blood from where I struck him with his staff. Suddenly, his groans turn to laughter. "That was awesome!" Nine hollers.
Pittacus Lore
#87. First the flame and then the flood:
In the end it's Blackthorn blood.
Seek thou to forget what's past
First thirteen and then the last.
Search not the book of angels gray,
Red or white will lead you far astray.
To regain what you have lost,
Find the black book at any cost.
Cassandra Clare
#88. The flavor of that blood stayed with him through the long years of his service ( ... ) by then he could no longer remember whose blood it was, only that he had grown used to the taste.
Holly Black
#89. Conan, grim, blood-stained, naked but for a loin-cloth, shackles on his mighty limbs, his blue eyes blazing beneath the tangled black mane which fell over his low broad forehead.
Robert E. Howard
#90. In darkness, in any light after dusk, you can slit a vein and the blood is black.
Michael Ondaatje
#91. One question always leads to another question. Some things are better to wonder about.
Christopher Pike
#92. Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks --
Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Sylvia Plath
#93. What I want to know is how the white man, with the blood of black people dripping off his fingers, can have the audacity to be asking black people, 'Do they hate him?' That takes a lot of nerve.
Malcolm X
#94. I can never kind of fathom a character's journey beyond the moment when you go to black, any more than when people ask me what Jason Patric did with the tape recorder at the end of 'Narc,' you know what I mean? Even in 'Blood, Guts,' like, what happens down the road with these characters?
Joe Carnahan
#95. Blood moon risin' in a sky of black dust, tell me baby, who do you trust?
Bruce Springsteen
#96. Nodded to the birds, a dozen of them in a black line, wise-eyed and watching. The town-square ran red. Blood in the gutters, blood on the flagstones, blood in the fountain. The corpses posed as corpses do. Some comical, reaching
Mark Lawrence
#97. The mountain trembled like an earthquake. Dust flew into the sky. And the rock turned dark red, like the color of blood'.
'How would you know?' Asks Sindhi cap. 'You only have a black and white television'.
'But it's a very good one. You can almost see colours.
Mohsin Hamid
#98. The Black Man grinned at her with his jackal mouth, and his scarlet eyes knew all the secrets of woman-blood.
Stephen King
#99. He let out a hiss of pain,then smiled that crooked, sheepish smile he always fell back on when he was caught doing something bad. Sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I just- I've been lying here for hours, thinking about blood.
Holly Black
#100. Life is a risk, who knows this better than me? Who knows more surely that babies die easily, that children fall ill from the least cause, that royal blood is fatally weak, that death walks behind my family like a faithful black hound?
Philippa Gregory
