Blood And Honey Quotes & Sayings

What is happening to me happens to all fruits that grow ripe.
It is the honey in my veins that makes my blood thicker, and my soul quieter. — Friedrich Nietzsche

avoid refined carbohydrates: white sugar, honey, high-fructose corn syrup, cookies, cakes, pastries, white bread, crackers, potato chips, french fries, commercial waffles, candy, donuts, and many dry breakfast cereals (juice-sweetened cereals listing whole grains as a primary ingredient are okay, but those with added sugar, evaporated cane juice, or honey are likely to raise your levels of tumor-fueling blood sugar and insulin). Instead, emphasize whole grains such as those above, as well as complex carbs such as vegetables, legumes, beans, and fresh fruit. If you crave something sweet, try dried fruit, rice syrup, barley malt, agave, kiwi sweetener, stevia, FruitSource, or maple syrup. — Keith Block

The Ptolemies were in fact Macedonian Greek, which makes Cleopatra approximately as Egyptian as Elizabeth Taylor. The word 'honey skinned' recurs in descriptions of her relatives and would presumably applied to hers as well, despite the inexactitudes surrounding her mother and paternal grandmother. There was certainly Persian blood in the family, but even an Egyptian mistress is a rarity among the Ptolemies. She was not dark skinned. — Stacy Schiff

She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them ... and then the glass was empty. — George R R Martin

His breathing was heavy, and full of life. He shivered still, his hand finding Katty unsteady and unprepared of what was going to come next.
"I hurt you!" Nico said, his voice raised with worry.
"No, not at all, honey, my sweetest Master, but you have me, all of me, the wholeness of me and my darkness."
"You play with the devil dear." Nico sombered.
"No." Katty defiantly said. "You took my blood and it made me your slave, yet I love every minute of it."
"Tell me you love me Katty." He said, nearing her closer than close, mending the space between them with the threads of courage. "Tell me you have no fear, nor no weakness against me. Or no shame in loving me."
"I fear you not, my love." Katty sincerely committed. "I fear only that you will be taken away by the hands of the vampire hunter, and only then, will I fall. — Keira D. Skye

Remember The Princess and the Pea? She could feel a single pea through dozens of mattresses, and that's how everyone knew she was of noble blood, even though she'd arrived looking bedraggled and scruffy.
It's supposed to be an example of the saying "breeding will out", meaning that you can always spot true royalty, even if that someone is dressed in rags. Am I the only one who thinks the moral of this story is all screwed up? You get caught in a storm and knock on a stranger's door in the middle of the night to ask for shelter... then when they ask how you slept, you COMPLAIN that you were uncomfortable?
Honey, that's not being a Princess. That's being a diva bitch. — Rosie Blythe

I still don't know a place with lovelier Aprils. The mornings and nights are fresh and cool, and the sun pours down like spilled honey, warm without the thick wet weight of the coming summer. The damp earth is as red as flesh, or blood, and so fecund that you can almost hear the thrumming, rustling push of growth up through it. The new foliage is a thousand different shades of pink, red, gold, and green. I could not seem to stay indoors at night in that first spring; I was enraptured with the startling, ghostly white showfalls of dogwood in dusk-green woods, and with streetlights shining through new leaves. Azaleas rolled like surf through the wooded hills of the northwest. — Anne Rivers Siddons

Her eyes were liquid silver as they narrowed at him, swirling with as many mysteries as the stars in the night sky. "I want a family," she murmured. "And I'll do what I must to get it."
The naked, aching honesty in her voice pierced him with a poisoned arrow, and he could feel the toxins spreading through his blood. Soon he would be completely paralyzed, a victim of the opposing forces now quarreling inside him like two wolves fighting for dominance. The two strongest emotions known to man.
He took in a deep breath, the scent of her honey soap and the lavender water evading his senses with the subtlety of a Roman legion. — Kerrigan Byrne

She pulled her blonde hair back into a high ponytail, which somehow drew even more attention to her chest. "I don't mean the right guy to marry, honey. I mean the right guy to get your blood pumping. To make you turn off your analytical, judgmental, hyperactive brain and think with your body instead."
"Bodies can't think."
"SEE!" She said. "Analytical. Judgmental. — Cora Carmack

This is your last chance, honey," Brandy says, and her blood is getting all over the place. She says, "Do you love me?" It's when folks ask questions like this that you lose the spotlight. — Chuck Palahniuk

Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood. — Bram Stoker

Reading Myself
Like thousands I took just pride and more than just,
struck matches that brought my blood to a boil;
I memorized the tricks to set the river on fire
somehow never wrote something to go back to.
Can I suppose I am finished with wax flowers
and have earned my grass on the minor slopes of Parnassus ...
No honeycomb is built without a bee
adding circle to circle, cell to cell,
the wax and honey of a mausoleum
this round dome proves its maker is alive;
the corpse of the insect lives embalmed in honey,
prays that its perishable work live long
enough for the sweet tooth bear to desecrate
this open book..my open coffin — Robert Lowell

Be happy, cried the Nightingale, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense. — Oscar Wilde

Ever since I was a little kid and first heard Jimmy Reed's 'Honey, Don't Let Me Go,' the blues has been in my blood. — Billy Gibbons

I can't wear this," she said from inside the dressing room. "It's too small."
"Let's see," Nick said. "Come on out."
"Get me a bigger size. A lot bigger."
Nick opened the door and looked in at Kate. "Whoa," he said on a gush of air. His pupils dilated to the point where his brown eyes were almost totally black, and Kate decided the dress must look better than she'd first thought.
"Well?" she asked.
"I think I'm in love," Nick said. "But then my brain isn't completely engaged right now. That's not where the blood is flowing."
"Too much information" Kate said. "It would have been enough to tell me I look okay."
"Honey you look a lot better than okay."
"You don't think I look slutty?"
"Not at these prices," Nick said. — Janet Evanovich

She had been an untamed mestiza of the so-called shopkeeper aristocracy: seductive, rapacious, brazen, with a hunger in her womb that could have satisfied an entire barracks. In a few short years, however, she had been erased from the world by her abuse of fermented honey and cacao tablets. Her Gypsy eyes were extinguished and her wits dulled, she shat blood and vomited bile, her sirens body became as bloated and coppery as a three-day-old corpse, and she broke wind in pestilential explosions that startled the mastiffs. She almost never left her bedroom, and when she did she was nude or wearing a silk tunic with nothing underneath, which made her seem more naked than if she wore nothing at all. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Oh, sweet peaches and cream, this hurts."

"Child, what have you done to your foot?"

Beth glanced down to see blood dripping from the side of her sandal. "Crap."

"Honey, that's blood. That calls for a shit or a damn or something stronger than crap. — Terri Osburn

FOR A VERY LONG MOMENT WE ALL STOOD IN A FROZEN tableau of hostile indecision. Debs and Recht stared at each other, Deke breathed through his mouth, and I tried to decide whether assisting the fallen woman was technically within my jurisdiction as a blood-spatter analyst. And then there was a clatter at the front door and I heard a minor commotion behind me. "Shit," a male voice called out, quite clearly. "Shit, shit, shit." It was impossible to argue with the general sentiment, but nevertheless I turned around to see if I could gather some specifics. A middle-aged man hurried toward us. He was tall and soft-looking and had close-cropped gray hair and a matching beard. He slid to one knee beside Mrs. Aldovar and picked up her hand. "Hey, Emily? Honey?" he said as he patted her hand. "Come on, Em." I — Jeff Lindsay

Why don't you just go run to your room and cry little girl or better yet kill yourself?" Cora spat out ferociously.
"Oh honey, if I was going to kill myself I'd do it right here out of spite just to see you get down on your knees and wash the blood off the tiles and haunt your ass til kingdom come." Sienna spat back with even more ferocity. — Ali Harper

It smells of blood and honey, of sex and song. — Kelly Sandoval

The girl stood in the center of the large four-poster bed. She wore a nightgown and robe that Cordelia had generously, and unknowingly, donated. Anything of Emily's would have been far too short and too small. Her honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders in messy waves and her similarly colored eyes were almost black with wildness, her pupils unnaturally dilated.
Fear. He felt it roll off her in great waves. It shimmered around her in a rich red aura Griff knew he alone could see, as it was viewable only on the Aetheric plane. She was afraid of them and, like a trapped animal, her answer to fear was to fight rather than flee. Interesting.
She was certainly a sight to behold. Normally she was probably quite pretty, but right now she was ... she was ...
She was bloody magnificent. That's what she was. Except for the blood, of course. — Kady Cross

As a doctor, let me tell you what self-love does: It improves your hearing, your eyesight, lowers your blood pressure, increases pulmonary function, cardiac output, and helps wiring the musculature. So, if we had a rampant epidemic of self-love then our healthcare costs would go down dramatically. So, this isn't just some little frou-frou new age notion, oh love yourself honey. This is hardcore science. — Christiane Northrup

The Priestess
Her skin was pale, and her eyes were dark, and her hair was dyed black. She went on a daytime talk show and proclaimed herself a vampire queen. She showed the cameras her dentally crafted fangs, and brought on ex-lovers who, in various stages of embarrassment, admitted that she had drawn their blood, and that she drank it.
"You can be seen in a mirror, though?" asked the talk show hostess. She was the richest woman in America, and had got that way by bringing the freaks and the hurt and the lost out in front of her cameras and showing their pain to the world.
The studio audience laughed.
The woman seemed slightly affronted. "Yes. Contrary to what people may think, vampires can be seen in mirrors and on television cameras."
"Well, that's one thing you finally got right, honey," said the hostess of the daytime talk show. But she put her hand over her microphone as she said it, and it was never broadcast. — Neil Gaiman

She cried out as he quickly shoved a hand into the front of her panties, the sharp sound becoming a breathless moan when he cupped her warm sex in his palm and gave a predatory growl. Her delicate hands were on the sides of his neck, clutching him to her, her tongue sliding against his in a way that made his blood boil. Heat poured off him in blistering, sweltering waves as he shoved two thick fingers inside the slick, narrow opening of her body, stretching tender tissues, surprised by how perfect and small she felt. By how tightly she gripped him.
"I knew," he groaned, nipping her mouth with his teeth as he pushed his fingers deeper into that hot, melting honey. "I fucking knew you were going to feel like this. — Rhyannon Byrd

Natural Blood Tonic and Blood Purifier 1. Prepare 1 cup of pineapple juice. 2. Add 1 mashed banana to juice. 3. Mix very well and add half cup of honey. 4. Mix thoroughly and administer as a single dose at night before going to bed. — James R. Parker

who wants to make it grand or fortify it for the coitus, must rub it before copulation with tepid water, until it gets red and extended by the blood flowing into it, in consequence of the heat; he must then anoint it with a mixture of honey and ginger, rubbing it in sedulously. Then let him join the woman; he will procure for her such pleasure that she objects to him getting off her again. — Nigel Cliff

If you dry the chestnut, both the barks being taken away, beat them into powder and make the powder up into an electuary with honey, it is a first-rate remedy for cough and spitting of blood. — Nicholas Culpeper

He could feel the earth beneath, all the deep stone of it, cool and hard near the surface of the earth, but hotter and softer as you went deep, until it flowed like honey, a vast sweet fiery ocean of molten rock a thousand times more voluminous and ten thousand times heavier than the sea. It felt to him as if it were his own blood, and his heart pumped it. — Orson Scott Card

The bait's got a theory; the bait's finding a practice, working it out; the bait's going to write it down and she don't have to use words, she'll make signs, in blood, she's good at bleeding, boys, the vein's open, boys, the bait's got plenty, each month more and more without dying for a certain long period of her life, she can lose it or use it, she works in broad strokes, she makes big gestures, big signs; oh and honey there's so much bait around that there's going to be a bloodbath in the old town tonight, when the new art gets its start. — Andrea Dworkin

But that mimosa grove - the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since."
"this then is my story. i have reread it. it has bits of marrow sticking to it, and blood, and beautiful bright-green flies. at this or that twist of it i feel my slippery self eluding me, gliding into deeper and darker waters than i care to probe. — Vladimir Nabokov