Written In The Blood Quotes

#1. Twice damned, in truth, and yet by quirk of timing and fate accepted into that society denied to so many others.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#2. 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

#3. When you feel weak in spirit, think about the agreements you made with yourself about how to live an honourable life. We all have them, but unfortunately the contracts are often written in invisible ink when they should be signed in blood.

Suzanne Hayes

#4. The human body is a book of secrets, covered in skin and written in blood. Those who which to learn its mysteries must be unafraid to open it and study its entrails.
-The Book of The Eternal Rose

Fiona Paul

#5. The effects of human wickedness are written on the page of history in characters of blood: but the impression soon fades away; so more blood must be shed to renew it.

Augustus William Hare

#6. He wondered how much time he had left before they started saying "you".

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#7. Create a mould, and pour yourself in it. See what you want to be, and be. Don't fear the pain. Pain is good. Pain is price.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#8. perhaps that's what we thought we were. Benevolent gods.
Now look at us.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#9. I haven't really written my plays and books - I've heard them. The stories are there already, singing in your genes and in your blood.

Sebastian Barry

#10. 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

#11. There were faces at the windows and words written in blood; deep in the crypt a lonely ghoul crunched on something that might once have been alive; forked lightnings slashed the ebony night; the faceless were walking; all was right with the world

Neil Gaiman

#12. What a drug this little book is; to imbibe it is to find oneself presuming his process. I read and feel that same compulsion; the desire to possess what he has written, which can only be subdued by writing something myself. It is not mere envy but a delusional quickening in the blood.

Patti Smith

#13. 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

#14. 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

#15. That's truth, Harvey, not what's written on a piece of paper or in blood too small to see - but the memory of how it felt being together.

Simon Van Booy

#16. Only the very stupid or the very deprived can any longer help knowing that the documents of civilization have been written in blood and tears, blood and tears no less real for being very remote.

Seamus Heaney

#17. What protection could she have hoped to offer either of them? She couldn't even protect herself anymore.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#18. She preferred fear to misplaced confidence.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#19. 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

#20. As if this was normal.
As if nothing had happened during the night.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#21. 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

#22. 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

#23. At the top of the heap is poetry,at least as it used to be written.Nothing else goes far,nothing goes as deep n the blood and soul.Shakespeare surpasses Beethoven because he had sound and meaning.Always remember that as you get older.Poetry is in the emprean,TV is in the pit

Jeffrey Moore

#24. He couldn't even remember her name any more. when, he caught himself wondering, had he started to forget?

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#25. 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

#26. 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

#27. In the house of poetry nothing endures that is not written with blood to be heard with blood.

Pablo Neruda

#28. When I think of the flag ... I see alternate strips of parchment upon which are written the rights of liberty and justice, and stripes of blood to vindicate those rights, and then, in the corner, a prediction of the blue serene into which every nation may swim which stands for these great things.

Woodrow Wilson

#29. 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

#30. All words are written in the same ink,
'flower' and 'power,' say, are much the same,
and though I might write 'blood, blood, blood'
all over the page, the paper would not be stained
now would I bleed.

Philippe Jaccottet

#31. She loved him, loved the essence of him, his soul, not his shell.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#32. Don't mourn me", he said. Because it was a joke, a sick joke and because - at the end - he needed a little dark humour to sustain him.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#33. 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

#34. 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

#35. 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

#36. 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

#37. Whatever had arrived to save her had not spoken, had not announced itself with anything except the silent killing it brought.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#38. Even divorce, she thought, cannot erase all the bonds forged by years of marriage. Long after the papers are signed, decrees notarized, the ties still remain. And the most powerful tie of all is written in a child's flesh and blood.

Tess Gerritsen

#39. 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

#40. Sensed his darkness; his rage; his white-knuckle self discipline. She knew that the face he wore in her presence was not his own; other than his name, it was all she knew of him, despite the length of their acquaintance.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#41. The people who send us fan mail written in blood say the nicest things, so it doesn't freak us out too much.

Davey Havok

#42. She tried, and failed, to stop herself from shaking.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#43. It is the violent peotry of the times written in the blood of the youth

Luis J. Rodriguez

#44. 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

#45. From the confusion in his expression, she sensed it was a hopeless question. He did not know. Years of hate and obsession had twisted and poisoned him, had wrung from him every surviving drop of humanity.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#46. There's always one, isn't there? Stryker asked rhetorically. 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.

Sherrilyn Kenyon

#47. 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

#48. She examined with curious detachment - so rare for her to feel anything these days - and discovered that what she felt was unease.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#49. Her words might have been meant for another, but they had the quality of sunlight nonetheless.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#50. Beads of blood defied gravity, hanging in the air like drops of dew caught in a web.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#51. But, deep in her heart she knew more than what the words read or heard seemed to say. She knew that every letter in every word in every war bulletin was, somewhere, first written in blood of men, of human beings, who had once smiled and sung songs, eaten, drunk, slept and loved.

Kate Seredy

#52. You tell others about Me - that I am a loving God. Your words are glib. My words are written in the blood of My only Son.

Brennan Manning

#53. The last begonias wilting in the chalet's hanging baskets laced the air with a lemon and cinnamon fragrance.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#54. Decades of sorrow and loss, he had suffered. And all of them caused by this woman crouching in front of him with his blood on her lips.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#55. When she kissed his mouth, she tasted blood and swallowed it.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#56. I've always said the world is filled with as much wonder as sorrow.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#57. She never liked the man. What she saw now, she liked even less.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#58. She nodded, knowing that he toyed with her, lightening her anguish, but she had no power in this exchange.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#59. Europeans would like to escape from their history, a "great" history written in letters of blood. But others, by the hundreds of millions, are taking it up for the first time, or coming back to it.

Raymond Aron

#60. - 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

#61. 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

#62. 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

#63. 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

#64. 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

#65. I am to be judged today. But tomorrow, in the way treat an innocent, you will all be judged.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#66. She was an impostor here, unfit to be around these innocent lives.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#67. The Overlook was still not done with him. Written on the mirror, not in lipstick but in blood, was a single word:
REDRUM

Stephen King

#68. 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

#69. Every drop of human blood contains a history book written in the language of our genes.

Spencer Wells

#70. Pointless to question the sanity of it.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#71. 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

#72. He was to be their page, their book, the vessel for their autobiographies. A book of blood. A book made of blood. A book written in blood.

Clive Barker

#73. Music is not written in red, white and blue. It is written in the heart's blood of the composer.

Nellie Melba

#74. Ian made a dissentient noise through his nose. Aye, and if I were to try bein' a Friend, who would there be to protect the lot of 'em? Rachel and her brother and Dottie, I mean. Ye ken that, don't ye? That they can only be what they are because you and I are what we are?

Diana Gabaldon

#75. Why the desire for death.
A clean paper or pure white wall.
One false line, a scratch, a mistake.
Unerasable. So obscureby
adding million other tracings,
blend it, cover over.
But the original scratch remains,
written in gold blood, shining.
Desire for a Perfect Life.

Jim Morrison

#76. I suppose anyone who has ever written a travel book has had the experience of being accosted by a reader with blood in his eye and a lawsuit in his voice.

Ilka Chase

#77. He sucked his pipe. Blew out the smoke. The clock ticked, lengthening the seconds between them.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#78. The trouble with many copywriters in general agencies are that they don't really think in terms of selling. They have never written direct-response; they have never tasted blood

David Ogilvy

#79. Every sword that was dripping the blood became a pen. Every word that was written in it became a poetry.

Akshay Vasu

#80. 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

#81. He might not have control of this situation, but the illusion of control was more pressing than its reality.

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#82. 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

#83. You finally admit that you were hurt? That you can feel pain?

Stephen Lloyd Jones

#84. 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

#85. 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

#86. 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