Bleeding Eyes Quotes & Sayings

I was ten years old. I had noticed something was weird earlier in the day but I knew from commercials that one's menstrual period was a blue liquid that you poured like laundry detergent onto maxi pads to test their absorbency. This wasn't blue so ... I ignored it for a few hours.
When we got home I pulled my mom aside to ask if it was weird I was bleeding in my underpants. She was very sympathetic but also a little baffled. Her eyes said "Dummy didn't you read 'How Shall I Tell My Daughter ". I HAD read it but nowhere in the pamphlet did anyone say that your period was NOT a blue liquid.
At that moment two things became clear to me I was now technically a woman and I would never be a doctor. — Tina Fey

As many as thirty or as few as ten years later, lying exhausted and still, eyes open in the dark long after the three suns of Rakhat had set, no longer bleeding, past the vomiting, enough beyond the shock to think again, it would occur to Emilio Sandoz to wonder if perhaps that day int he Sudan was really only part of the setup for a punchline a life-time in the making. It was an odd thought, under the circumstances. He understood that, even at the time. But thinking it, he realized with appalling clarity that on his journey of discovery as a Jesuit, he had not merely been the first human being to set foot on Rhakhat, had not simply explored parts of its largest continent and learned two of its languages and loved some of its people. He had also discovered the outermost limit of faith and, in doing so had located the exact boundary of despair. It was at that moment that he learned, truly, to fear God. — Mary Doria Russell

Then he told her, in the quiet tones of someone offloading a confession, that she was the most mazing women he had ever met. And when she lifted her swollen eyes to his, Ed mopped her bleeding nose, and he dropped his lips gently onto hers, and he did what he had wanted to do for the past forty-eight hours, even if he had been initially too dumb to know it, He kissed her. — Jojo Moyes

He saw her draw closer in the mirror. Her black hair was an ink splash against the white tile walls. She paused behind him. "You protected me, Kaz."
"The fact that you're bleeding through your bandages tells me otherwise."
She glanced down. A red blossom of blood had spread on the bandage tied around her shoulder. She tugged awkwardly at the strip of towel. "I need Nina to fix this one."
He didn't mean to say it. He meant to let her go. "I can help you."
Her gaze snapped to his in the mirror, wary as if gauging an opponent. I can help you. They were the first words she'd spoken to him, standing in the parlor of the Menagerie, draped in purple silk, eyes lined in kohl. She had helped him. And she'd nearly destroyed him. Maybe he should let her finish the job. — Leigh Bardugo

He could not bear to search for Christ again in stench and hollow eyes; for the Christ of pus and bleeding excrement, the Christ who could not be. In — William Peter Blatty

I thought of what my father had told me one summer day. I'd fallen down, and my knee was all scraped up and bleeding. We sat on the back porch, and he cleaned my wound and put a Band-Aid on it. The sky had cleared after a summer storm. I'd been crying, and he tried to get me to smile. "Your eyes are the color of sky. Did you know that?" I don't know why I remembered this. Maybe it was because I knew he was telling me he loved me. — Benjamin Alire Saenz

There was no love in my heart for this man - hell, I didn't even like him - but that didn't stop my hand from trembling as I pressed the pad against the wound. He groaned, his eyes popping open.

"Don't move," I warned. "I'm trying to stop the bleeding."

"With what? Acid?" he growled. — Lisa Kessler

Malphas surveyed the women's bodies with utter disgust and sorrow
until he realized Tabitha was still alive. He knelt by her side and cradled her head tenderly. "Tabby ... I'm so sorry"
Grimacing she opened her eyes as she labored to breathe. She laughed bitterly, exposing a set of bleeding teeth. "there are some things that sorry doesn't fix, Caleb."
"Shhh, don't speak. I can
"
"you failed us," She went limp in his arms. Her eyes went Dull.
Wincing, Caleb held her close to his heart and stroked her bloody hair. "No, Tabby. I failed myself."
"Most of all, I failed Nick. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

What's wrong?" she began quietly, her large, liquid eyes illuminated with hysteria. She laughed like a loon and said, "Where shall we begin? I'm tired. I'm sore." Her voice began lilting and rising, getting louder with every sentence. Grabbing at her chest, she shouted, "I've got a corset wrapped so tightly over my breasts that I can hardly breathe! I lost both my socks and my shoes! My hands are a pulp of lacerations!" She lifted them up before her, fingers spread, and laughed again. "I've a gash -- a throbbing, bleeding gash on the back of my scalp! And let's not forget to mention that I'm surrounded by men of the most vile, disreputable character imaginable, stuck on board a ship, in the middle of the bloody Atlantic! — Gabriela Lawson

bleeding heavily, her eyes flat with — John Sandford

I became aware that our love was doomed; love had turned into a love affair with a beginning and an end. I could name the very moment when it had begun, and one day I knew I should be able to name the final hour. When she left the house I couldn't settle to work. I would reconstruct what we had said to each other; I would fan myself into anger or remorse. And all the time I knew I was forcing the pace. I was pushing, pushing the only thing I loved out of my life. As long as I could make believe that love lasted I was happy; I think I was even good to live with, and so love did last. But if love had to die, I wanted it to die quickly. It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death; I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck. — Graham Greene

And then I remembered something. Holy crap, I'd obviously been without magic for way too long to have forgotten one of the coolest spells I could do.
"Stop!" I yelled.. Archer, Cal, and Jenna all skidded to a halt on the sand. I waved my hands at them to come closer. "Okay, everybody hold hands," I said.
Archer stared at me, one hand pressed to his bleeding chest. "Sophie, this really isn't the time for a friendship circle."
"It's not that," I said. "It's this."
I closed my eyes and channeled all my magic into a transportation spell. There was a rush of icy air, and then we were standing in the grove of trees that housed Hex Hall's very own Itineris.
"Wow," Jenna breathed. "It is awesome to have you back."
Magic and satisfaction rushed through me. "You said it," I agreed. "Now come on."
And with that, the four of us dove into the Itineris. — Rachel Hawkins

The other Max looked at me, and her eyes narrowed. 'They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,' she said snidely. 'So I guess you're really sucking up.'
'Who are you?' I gasped, my eyes wide. 'You're an impostor!'
'No she isn't.' The little creepy one, Angel, turned to look at me. Her arm was still bleeding where Ari had bitten it. 'You are.'
I swallowed my anger. Who did she think she was, her and her stupid dog? I gave a concerned smile. 'But Angel,' I said, sincerity dripping from my voice, 'how can you say that? You know who I am.'
'I think I'm Angel,' she said. 'And my dog isn't stupid. You're the stupid one, to think that you could fool us. I can read minds, you idiot. — James Patterson

I know who you are," he says.
Something about his tone causes my heart of smoke to flicker in response, and I throw my guard up. "Oh? And who, O boy of Parthenia, am I?"
He nods to himself, his eyes alight. "You're her. You're that jinni. Oh, gods. Oh, great bleeding gods! You're the one who started the war!"
"Excuse me?"
"You're the jinni who betrayed that famous queen - what was her name? Roshana? She was trying to bring peace between the jinn and the humans, but you turned on her and started the Five Hundred Wars."
I turn cold. I want him to stop, but he doesn't.
"I've heard the stories," he says. "I've heard the songs. They call you the Fair Betrayer, who enchanted humans with your . . ." He pauses to swallow. "Your beauty. You promised them everything, and then you ruined them. — Jessica Khoury

E wear the mask that grins and lies,
it hides our cheeks and shades our eyes-
this debt we pay to human guile;
with torn and bleeding hearts we smile. — Paul Laurence Dunbar

Is this Prior?"
"In the flesh."
"Why's he bleeding?"
"Because he's an idiot."
Zeke offers me a black jacket with a factionless symbol stitched into the collar. "I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose."
I wrap the jacket around Caleb's shoulders and fasten one of the buttons over his chest. He avoids my eyes.
"I think it's a new phenomenon.", I say. — Veronica Roth

Making the ungrateful grateful will bring tears to your eyes, tears of blood bleeding from the heart. — Ana Monnar

He was right in front of me. I hadn't even seen him move. I jerked, pressing my back against the wall of the library. My bag slid off my shoulder, landing next to my feet. "Holy crap, you can move."
"I can do a lot of things." Angling his body, he pressed one palm against the wall beside my head. Good God, he was tall. "Some of them fast. Some of them real slow."
My mouth opened. "Was that a s-sexual innuendo?"
His lips twitched. "Something along those lines."
The heat was back in my face and throat, despite the chill bleeding from the wall through my lightweight sweater. "Well, it was a crappy one."
"I can do better," he offered, and those golden eyes finally lightened — Jennifer L. Armentrout

She uses that shampoo," he sighed.
"What shampoo?"
"The one with honey in it."
Ric's eyes crossed. "Oh, my God."
"She was sitting in that tree, her leg bleeding out, and all I could think about was how good her hair smelled. — Shelly Laurenston

Then he crouches down behind it, motions for Tess and me to sit down, and begins unbuttoning his vest.
I blush scarlet and thank every god in the world for the darkness surrounding us. "I'm not cold and I'm not bleeding," I say to him. "Keep your clothes on."
The boy looks at me. I would've expected his bright eyes to look dimmer in the night, but instead they seem to reflect the light coming from the windows above us. He's amused. "Who said anything about you , sweetheart? — Marie Lu

Bleeding from the ear. Oh Jesus, God. That was on the list for not applying pressure. But what did that mean? I couldn't remember. Couldn't think.
"Is he okay?"
"You dropped a two-hundred pound log on his head!" I screamed at Nathan. The air shuddered around us; the building itself seeming to tremble.
"I didn't mean-"
"Shut up, man," Marco said, swatting at Nathan's arm. "Joss, you need to calm the fuck down."
"Calm down? Calm down?!" Energy pulsed around us, hot, thick, pricking at my eyes. Above, lights flickered, dimmed. A bulb shattered somewhere, and glass came tinkling down. — Susan Bischoff

As I clung to the chaparral that day, attempting to patch up my bleeding finger, terrified by every sound that the bull was coming back, I considered my options. There were only two and they were essentially the same. I could go back in the direction I had come from, or I could go forward in the direction I intended to go. The bull, I acknowledged grimly, could be in either direction, since I hadn't seen where he'd run once I closed my eyes. I could only choose between the bull that would take me back and the bull that would take me forward. And so I walked on. — Cheryl Strayed

A young man held a young woman in his arms, her head leaned to one side, her eyes empty and still. He was shadowed, but I saw that the figure was kissing the girl's neck. No that wasn't it. As I moved closer I saw what it was. She was unmoving, a statue, while he sucked on her bleeding neck. I was cold with fear, yet I moved closer ... mesmerised — Stella Coulson

Let go of me, I scream, but, oh, only in my imagination because my lips are finished working and my heart has just expired and my mind has gone to hell for the day and my eyes my eyes I think they're bleeding ... — Tahereh Mafi

War is not two great armies meeting in the clash and frenzy of battle. War is a boy being carried on a stretcher, looking up at God's blue sky with bewildered eyes that are soon to close; war is a woman carrying a child that has been injured by a shell; war is spirited horses tied in burning buildings and waiting for death; war is the flower of a race, battered, hungry, bleeding, up to its knees in filthy water; war is an old woman burning a candle before the Mater Dolorsa for the son she has given. — Mary Roberts Rinehart

Let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. — William Shakespeare

How did you get out of the suicide door?" Her disbelief was a living, pettable thing.
"Magic."
Her eyes narrowed. "There is no magic."
"Maybe not for you. But I'm from out of town. — Dia Reeves

Damn it all to hell and back again, you know very well that was a setup. You bloody well know I couldn't put my hands on her."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure." Eve shrugged off her coat, tossed it aside. "I know a setup when I see it, and I know your face, ace. I didn't see desire on it, I saw annoyance."
"Is that so? Is that bloody well so? Well, if you knew it was just what it was, why did you sucker punch me?"
"Mostly?" She turned, cocked a hip. "Because you're a man."
Eyes narrowed on her face, he tried to stanch the blood with the back of his hand. "And do you have any sort of idea just how often I might expect your fist in my goddamn face because of my bleeding DNA? — J.D. Robb

Phillip look into Ray's eyes. He saw compassion and hope. And he saw himself mirrored back, bleeding in a dirty gutter on a street where life was worth less than a dime bag.
Sick, tired, petrified, Phillip dropped his head into his hands.
"What's the point?"
"You're the point, son." Ray ran his hand over Phillip's hair. "You're the point. — Nora Roberts

You're bleeding," he said. "A thorn prick, no more," she stated. "I didn't know fairy creatures could bleed. I always fancied them spun of mist and moonlight, not flesh and blood." "Let go." "No, my love - " "I'm not a fairy creature, and I am surely not your love." "It's just an expression." "It's a lie. But 'tis no high wonder to me. I'd be expecting falsehoods from a Sassenach." "Poor Caitlin. Does it hurt?" Very slowly, with his eyes fixed on hers, he put her finger to his lips and gently slipped it inside his mouth. Too shocked to stop him, she felt the warmth of his mouth, the moist velvet brush of his tongue over the pad of her finger. Then with an excess of gentleness he drew it out and placed her hand in her lap. "I think the bleeding's stopped," he said. — Susan Wiggs

[Olive's] left foot was bleeding through a wide swath of bandages onto the tarp it was resting on. The bowl next to her was full of blood.
Olive looked a little pale. "I don't think I should move," she said.
"What are you doing?" Roger shut the door behind him and stood with his back to it.
"I decided I might try to eat my toes," Olive said, closing her eyes. "But now that I've started, I don't think I should move."
Roger pushed himself off the wall and knelt down next to her. He unbuckled her silver belt and reached with it under her dress. He looped the belt around the top of her leg and tightened it. His hands were not shaking.
"Sit on the loose end," he said, pushing it under her. "I hope that works."
"You brought flowers," she said, blinking.
"Olive," he said. "You cut off your toes."
She looked down at the bowl. "Are they still toes?" she asked. — Amelia Gray

When everything is lost (peel it all away)
Haunting us with questions (asking)
Will we... Ever find the smile inside (no), is it hidden
Behind the sweating eyes (bleeding)
Dead inside a scream that's pouring from me — Mudvayne

Will only looked at her. There had been light in his eyes on the stairs, as he'd locked the door, when he'd kissed her
a brilliant, joyous light. And it was going now, fading like the last breath of someone dying. She thought of Nate, bleeding to death in her arms. She had been powerless then, to help him. As she was now. She felt as if she were watching the life bleed out of Will Herondale, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. — Cassandra Clare

We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,- - This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be otherwise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see thus, while We wear the mask. We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise, We wear the mask! — Paul Laurence Dunbar

Last night. When I was bleeding out. I heard you.
Our eyes locked. And in that moment everything shifted. I saw what I had really done. I saw that I could be somebody's centre, their reason for staying. I saw that I could be enough. — Jojo Moyes

You are going to have a nasty scar," I said as I gently held pressure to stop the bleeding.
"All true warriors wear their scars proudly," he mumbled. "How can I be proud of this one?"
I looked up at him, horrified, as I realized what he meant. "What will your parents say?" I would be sent to Siberia. My whole family would be exiled. If not executed.
He shook his head. "They will know about the count before too long. My father will think that I failed to protect the public from this danger. It is I who fear being sent to Siberia."
"But ... wait. I didn't express my fears out loud, did I?" I dropped his arm and backed away, suddenly spooked by his silvery faerie eyes. "Can you read my thoughts?"
"Sometimes, when I concentrate." He winced and grabbed the bandage from me to apply pressure to the bleeding himself. "You are very easy to read. Most of the time. — Robin Bridges

Cage fighting appeals to the savage instinct in some people, including me, and we're all here for the same reason - to see one fighter annihilate another. We want to see bleeding eyes, gashes across the forehead, choke holds, bone-ripping submissions, and brutal knockout punches that send the corners scrambling for the doctor. Mix in a flood of cheap beer, and you have five thousand maniacs begging for blood. — John Grisham

When she straightened he was there, just in front of her. Her breath caught. He was still scowling, teeth bared and sharp, Death glowing in his eyes. He had a bleeding cut on his leg and he smelled like shit. Her nose wrinkled. "Step in something?" she asked innocently. "That, I did not mind." He took a menacing step toward her. "What I did mind was being hit by a cab, then landing on the lap of a naked man. With an erection, Anya. He had an erection." She grinned. She just couldn't help herself. "Now, — Gena Showalter

The woman trembled, eyes wide as she stared at the bluff. Her teeth pressed against her lower lip hard enough he wouldn't have been surprised to see blood. Devyn recognized the building hysteria. His chest tightened; he'd seen like expressions all too often and it opened a raw, bleeding hurt in his chest. — Lynda K. Scott

I stared at the nose I'd seen bleeding only hours before, the violet eyes that had been so filled with pain. "Why?" I asked.
He knew what I meant, and shurugged. "Because when the legends get written, I didn't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn't do anything useful."
I blinked, this time not at the brightness of the sun.
"Because," he went on his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."
And for a moment, I remembered that faerie who had died in our foyer, and how I'd told Tamlin the same thing. "Thank you," I said, my throat tight.
Rhys flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. " I doubt you'll be saying that when I take you to the Night Court. — Sarah J. Maas

We shall forever be battling our scars, healing ourselves from the deep scars of childhood, to the awkward scars of adolescence, the hard scars of adulthood and scars of frail old age. In the answering spark in another's eyes, the cosy laughter of friends, and the circle of family, we rush to heal, heal our scars. In the eyes of a complete stranger, we finally find our balm until they are a stranger no more, and then we scar again, only to bleed again. — Srividya Srinivasan

Soon the purple dark must bruise
Lily and bleeding-heart and rose,
And the little Cupid lose
Eyes and ears and chin and nose — Donald Justice

Come back, true love! Sweet youth, return!
But time goes on, and will, unheeding,
Though hands will reach, and eyes will yearn,
And the wild days set true hearts bleeding. — Conrad Aiken

It was called 'We Wear the Mask', by Paul Laurence Dunbar. I transcribed the first stanza and then started jotting down my reaction to it.

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, -
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

I used to wear masks so subtle I barely noticed them. A compliment to my mother after a dismal meal, a smile at my best friend when she sang out of tune, a forced laugh at my uncle's bad jokes. I wore small masks that came and went, like fleeting expressions.

I am stuck inside the mask I wear now. I want to rip it off. I want to show my scars to the world, to unveil the ugliness that breathes inside me. I want to be unashamed. I want to be unafraid. But every day the mask gets tighter, and I suffocate a little more.

I stopped writing. — Catherine Doyle

O captain! My Captain!
Our fearful trip is done.
The ship has weather'd every wrack
The prize we sought is won
The port is near, the bells I hear
The people all exulting
While follow eyes, the steady keel
The vessel grim and daring
But Heart! Heart! Heart!
O the bleeding drops of red
Where on the deck my captain lies
Fallen cold and dead. — Walt Whitman

Amour, love, the dream of man,
Woman's deep devoted plan.
Amour

Amor means no hungry child,
Begging, hair blowing wild.

Searching amongst the rats and mice,
Left-over food, contaminated rice.
Eyes, the saddest soul sight,
Hidden is the child's plight.
Bleeding feet, glass cut bare,
Dirty rags for a child to wear.
Clambering through the bin,
Society's senseless sin.

Amor, love save this child's life,
Poverty is the nefarious knife,
A child of poverty and strife,
Deserves amour, love of life.

Maureen Brindle from Beloved Isles
[Inspired by H.H. Princess Maria Amor We Care for Humanity] — Maureen Brindle

There are guys bleeding to death who don't know it, they're smiling, they're talking, they don't feel pain because they're in shock, they ask you for some water and then they're dead. On D-day I ran past a guy lying on his spilled guts with his eyes closed and his thumb in his mouth. Eisenhower's speech had been read to us over the loudspeaker by our commander when we crossed the channel that morning. What valor and inspiration were in his words- all about how we were embarked on a great crusade, that the hopes and prayers of a liberty loving people were going with us ... I got gooseflesh when he asked for the blessing of almighty god on this great and noble undertaking. But how to reconcile that with spilled guts on a beach and flies in the eyes of some dead nineteen year old kid who traded his life for some words on paper? — Elizabeth Berg

Now at this point you are probably thinking: so what? There is no Ebola in the world at the moment. Oh yes there is, but despite a twenty-year, multi-million-dollar hunt nobody has been able to find where it lives. Some say the host is a bat, others say it's a spider or a space alien. All we know is that occasionally, and for no obvious reason, someone comes out of the jungle with bleeding eyes and his stomach in a bag. — Jeremy Clarkson

His feet went banging down some stairs. He closed his eyes. They went through cinders and dirt, his heels gathering small windrows of trash. A dim world receded above his upturned toes, shapes of skewed shacks erupted bluely in the niggard lamplight. The rusting carcass of an automobile passed slowly on his right. Dim scenes pooling in the summer night, wan ink wash of junks tilting against a paper sky, rorschach boatmen poling mutely over a mooncobbled sea. He lay with his head on the moldy upholstery of an old car seat among packingcrates and broken shoes and suncrazed rubber toys in the dark. Something warm was running on his chest. He put up a hand. I am bleeding. Unto my death. — Cormac McCarthy

Her magic sent him sprawling, and it then hurled into Rhysand again - so hard that his head cracked against the stones and the knife dropped from his splayed fingers. No one made a move to help him, and she struck him once more with her power. The red marble splintered where he hit it, spiderwebbing toward me. With wave after wave she hit him. Rhys groaned.
"Stop," I breathed, blood filling my mouth as I strained a hand to reach her feet. "Please."
Rhys's arms buckled as he fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met mine.
The bond between us went taut. I flashed between my body and his, seeing myself through his eyes, bleeding and broken and sobbing.
I snapped back into my own mind as Amarantha turned to me again. "Stop? Stop? Don't pretend you care, human," she crooned, and curled her finger. I arched my back, my spine straining to the point of cracking, and Rhysand bellowed my name as I lost my grip on the room. — Sarah J. Maas

All right. Here's the deal, bigshot: suck my cock. Do that and I'll let you go. Straight trade."
He unzipped his fly and pulled down the elastic front of his shorts. Something that looked like a dead whitesnake fell out. Johnny observed the thin stream of blood driz-zling from it without surprise. The cop was bleeding from every other orifice, wasn't he?
"Speaking in the literature sense," the cop said, grinning, "this particular blowjob is going to be a little more Anne Rice than Armistead Maupin. I suggest you follow Queen Victoria's advice - close your eyes and think of strawberry shortcake. — Stephen King

Scarlett doesn't want to go to the hospital. Not surprising, really, since we have to come up with an elaborate story about how we all got so severely wounded.
"Dogfight. We broke one up," my sister answers for us as a horrified emergency room receptionist looks at Scarlett's raw, bleeding shoulders.
"Dogs dislike us." Silas shrugs, clutching the wound on his chest. He glances down at the burn wounds on my legs. I think they might scar, but it's hard to say. The receptionist speaks into a walkie-talkie, then lets her eyes travel from the fresh wounds to the ancient scars on Scarlett's body.
"Dogs pretty much hate me," Scarlett says testily. The poor receptionist looks relieved when the ER doctors appear and usher us down the hall. — Jackson Pearce

Many words came to me than as I stood clutching my bleeding face, many bile-filled, loathsome words sure to cute her to the core with lacerating truth. But meeting her blazing eyes, I felt the words die in my breast, my anger shriveling and flying away on the seaborne wind, replaced by a depth of pity and regret I knew had always lurked in my soul. — Anthony Ryan

After everything happened with you and me, I tried to heal. I knew that I needed to forget you and move on. I hurt so much; everyday felt like a death sentence. I mourned you like you were dead and then, I met Leah. We were set up on a blind date and I remember feeling hope that day. It was the first day in a year that I felt hope. We took our time getting to know each other, I bought her a ring." He shot me a look to see if I remembered the iceberg.
"And then, all of a sudden I missed you again. I mean, I never stopped missing you, but this time it hit me hard. I couldn't go to sleep for a single night without seeing you in my dreams. I compared everything Leah did to everything I remembered about you. It was like the old wound opened itself up again and I was bleeding out my feelings for you." I close my eyes at his words. Words that I want to hear badly but that are making my heart ache so terribly I can barely breathe. — Tarryn Fisher

Two years ago," she says, "I was afraid of spiders, suffocation, walls that inch slowly inward and trap you between them,getting thrown out of Dauntless, uncontrollable bleeding, getting run over by a train, my father's death,public humiliation, and kidnapping by men without faces."
Everyone stares blankly at her.
"Most of you will have anywhere from ten to fifteen years in your fear landscapes. That is the average number," she says.
"What's the lowest number someone has gotten?" asks Lynn.
"In recent years," says Lauren, "four."
I have not looked at Tobias since we were in the cafeteria,but I can't help but look at him now. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor. I knew that four was a low number, low enough to merit a nickname,but I didn't know it was less than half the average.
I glare at my feet.He's exceptional. And now he won't even look at me. — Veronica Roth

Back in Henrietta, night proceeded.
Richard Gansey was failing to sleep. When he closed his eyes: Blue's hands, his voice, black bleeding from a tree. It was starting, starting. No. It was ending. He was ending. This was the landscape of his personal apocalypse. What was excitement when he was wakeful melted into dread when he was tired.
He opened his eyes. — Maggie Stiefvater

His first stretch alerted me to a concerning issue. "Um, Raphael, I think you should change."
Biceps bulged, thigh muscles popped, and I was fairly certain he just added another pack to his abs. "I am quite comfortable, Abigail Miller."
I crossed my arms. "Well, I'm not. I know you go commando under your skirt and I don't want to see angel parts I wasn't meant to see."
He shot me a sideways glance. "You have seen said angel parts on Alexander. Mine are much more impressive, however."
My mouth and eyes widened. "Oh my gosh! I cannot believe you said that, Raphael. And it was an accident!"
He continued to stare.
"I was bleeding to death!"
He tilted his head at me, remaining silent.
I threw up my arms. "Fine, wear the damn skirt. But you had better keep things tucked in. Any hint of said angel parts and this is over."
Raphael smiled. He won? How did he do that? He was diabolical. — Ashlan Thomas

But you are crazy."
"I know." She lifted a small box from the basket. "Do you know how I know?"
Scarlet didn't answer.
"Because the palace walls have been bleeding for years, and no one else sees it." She shrugged, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to say. "No one believes me, but in some corridors, the blood has gotten so thick there's nowhere safe to step. When I have to pass through those places, I leave a trail of bloody footprints for the rest of the day, and then I worry that the queen's soldiers will follow the scent and eat me up while I'm sleeping. Some nights I don't sleep very well." Her voice dropped to a haunted whisper, her eyes taking on a brittle luminescence. "But if the blood was real, the servants would clean it up. Don't you think? — Marissa Meyer

Sometimes we cannot see and don't want to see because we are blinded. We need eye salve to put on our eyes. We cry out for revival, and yet God says, "I want to open your eyes so you can see what is before you. Revival has a face and a name. It lies bleeding on the roadside." If we want to see revival, we need to begin with the one in front of us. — Heidi Baker

Miranda opened her eyes in time to see the sunrise. A wash of violent color, pink and streaks of brilliant orange, the container ships on the horizon suspended between the blaze of the sky and the water aflame, the seascape bleeding into confused visions of Station Eleven, its extravagant sunsets the its indigo sea. The lights of the fleet fading into morning, the ocean burning into sky. — Emily St. John Mandel

Is it hard to be with all those men? All day? Every day?"
Annwyl drank some of Morfyd's wine. She knew no threat of infection remained, but the wine still tasted unbelievably delicious.
"Not at all."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Just let one of the men touch you inappropriately and you take his arm off right at the shoulder joint. Then, as he's bleeding to death, you slam his face into a few things, and you'll find the other men leave you alone."
Morfyd stared at Annwyl with wide eyes. "What?"
Morfyd cleared her throat. "Nothing. — G.A. Aiken

Recai's hold on sanity shattered as he peered into the same two black eyes that had mocked him as Rebekah lay bleeding across his lap.
A scream rose into the night, competing with the sky for the very ear of God. — Pavarti K. Tyler

In Norwegian that would be 'hun ma dra. Kanskje er hun gravid.'" Astley sttempts to smile.
i can't help teasing him. "Which? Asking to go to the bathroom or dissing me because I'm pregnant."
"you are with child?" his eyes open wid, all mock terrified.
"No! Shut up. You know I'm not." I punch him in the arm and then lead him into the stairwell, shutting the door behind us. "Okay. Seriously, Astley, what happened to you? Why is your head bleeding? — Carrie Jones

She's Awakening,' Aiden said, voice tight.
'But the blood ... ' I heard Marcus move closer. 'Why is she bleeding?'
I eased onto my side. 'I'm being tattooed by a giant, mother fu-' Another strangled scream cut of my words as a different type of pain settled in, moving under my skin. It was like lighting racing through my veins, frying every nerve ending.
'This is ... wow,' Deacon said, and I pried my eyes open. There was a whole audience by the door.
'Get them out of here!' I screamed, jackknifing on the floor. 'Gods, this sucks!'
'Whoa,' I heard Deacon murmur. 'This is like watching a chick give birth or something.'
'Oh my gods, I'm going to kill him.' I could feel the beads of blood breaking out under my jeans. 'I'm going to punch him-'
'Everyone leave,' Aiden ground out. 'This isn't a godsdamn show.'
'And I think he's like the father,' Luke said.
Aiden rose to his feet. 'Get. Out. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Colhoes!" He jerked away and rolled off her and to his feet. She scuttled back, skirts tangling in her boots as she jumped up, leaping to avoid puppies. The man's shadowed eyes swung to her, anger sparking in them in the dim light. Blood dripped between his fingers clamped over his mouth. "I hope I bit it off," she said, unwisely. He dropped his hand and his lower lip was still intact, though bleeding down his chin. "Damn it, woman. I only kissed you." "While you had me trapped beneath you." "Yes, well, obviously that was a mistake."

-Vitor & Ravenna — Katharine Ashe