Quotes & Sayings About Spilling Blood

I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father." He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. — George R R Martin

He whipped the chair around and actually split one of the things in half with the impact, spilling the spray of blood that was reflective, like mercury.
John bellowed, "Anyone else want to donate blood to chair-ity?"
He ducked into the the door and bashed one monster right in the wig, screaming, "There's some dessert! With a chair-y on top! — David Wong

sun caught the edge of his belt buckle, projecting a flash that shimmered across the desert plain. A shrill whistle sounded, and as I stepped to the right I caught sight of his shadow spilling a whole other set of sophisms from an entirely different angle. - I been here before, haven't I? He just sat there staring out at the plain. Son of a bitch, I thought. He's ignoring me. - Hey, I said, I'm not the dead, not a shade passing. I'm flesh and blood here. He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and started writing. - You got to at least look at me, I said. After all, it is my dream. I drew closer. Close enough to see what he was writing. He had his notebook open to a blank page and three words suddenly materialized. Nope, it's mine. - Well, I'll be damned, I murmured. I — Patti Smith

Civilization merely develops man's capacity for a greater variety of sensations, and ... absolutely nothing else. And through the development of this capacity, man may yet come to find pleasure in the spilling of blood. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

He curled up, twitching and spasming, the pain stormtrooping through his entire body in agonizing, dizzying, pounding waves. He vomited, but it wasn't the contents of his stomach. It was his stomach, hanging inside-out from a slimy loop of esophagus, spilling out the precious blood he'd been digesting.
Even with everything going on, the smell of blood activated his biting reflex, and he chomped down on his own regurgitated organs, screaming as he chewed. — Blake Crouch

Because I'm a civil rights activist, I am also an animal rights activist. Animals and humans suffer and die alike. Violence causes the same pain, the same spilling of blood, the same stench of death, the same arrogant, cruel and vicious taking of life. We shouldn't be a part of it. — Dick Gregory

Than Blood Spilling Wounds,The Words Of Hatred From Your Loved One's Causes You More Pain — Nithin Kumar

La petite mort - that's what the French called orgasm. They believed that semen is sort of concentrated blood so that each time a man came he shortened his life a little by spilling blood that couldn't be replenished."
"And women?"
"Then, as now, men didn't much concern themselves with how women felt. — Michael Nava

Then there was the church and the villagers on the sidewalks, the red geraniums on the graves in the cemetery, Perez fainting (he crumpled over like a rag doll), the blood-red earth spilling over Maman's casket, the white flesh of the roots mixed in with it, more people, voices, the village, waiting in front of a cafe, the incessant drone of the motor, and my joy when the bus entered the nest of lights that was Algiers and I knew I was going to go to bed and sleep for twelve hours. — Albert Camus

Without "The Law of Moses" would we all be wandering around like little gods, stealing, raping, and spilling blood whenever our vanity was offended? — Dan Barker

Atrocitus: You believe fear to be the most powerful force in the universe? Fear is inaction. Fear is hiding away. Fear is cowering and begging. Rage is action. Rage is spilling blood. Sinestro: Rage is uncontrollable. — William Irwin

You cannot spill a drop of American blood without spilling the blood of the whole world ... We are not a nation, so much as a world. — Herman Melville

Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. — George R R Martin

They shot one of ours." The lines deepened around his grey eyes. "I'd waste the whole army for spilling a drop of my crew's blood. — Katherine McIntyre

Giving herself a mental shake, she jumped back into the conversation. "It would help if we knew the exact origins of the vampire species. We think the first case of vampirism started around four hundred years ago, here in America, but we don't know where the virus came from, if it was originally airborne - "
Grant took a sip of his purple concoction and grimaced. "You know the vampire legend of their origins, yes?"
"Yes, but the legend is ridiculous."
"Is it?" He had to be kidding.
"Two Native American tribal chiefs kill each other, and then a crow and a raven fight over their bodies, spilling their blood into the men, who afterward rise that night as undead? Um, yes. Ridiculous."
"Some vampires agree with you. Mostly the turned ones. There are also rumors of demons creating the first vampires, but if they are so much as whispered inside these walls, Hunter will shut them down with rare temper. — Larissa Ione

And you just had to rush right over here to rub my face in it."
"Nope. I rushed right over here to slap your face in it."
"A rude but effective wake-up call," Laura commented and earned a shocked stare.
"I expected better from you."
"You shouldn't have." Hands brisk and competent, she affixed a shiny silver bow to the box. "If you don't want to tell us what happened between you and Josh,fine.But you can't expect us to sit around quietly while you mope."
"I have not been moping."
"We've been cleaning up the blood spilling out of your heart for weeks." Kate passed Laura her credit card. "Face it,pal, you're just no fun anymore."
"And that's all this friendship is about?Fun? I thought I might get a little support,a little sympathy, a little compassion."
"Sorry," Laura imprinted the card with a steady sweep. "Fresh out. — Nora Roberts

The idea of spilling blood for the sake of oil would have seemed ludicrous. — Yuval Noah Harari

I'll use the blood from my spilling heart to write the words that were never able to slip out of my mouth, so you can see how much you've broken me into a perpetual state of melancholy. — Karen Quan

And the silence, it cuts me. The silence, it gores me,

Spilling my blood as the rain falls on me.

Excerpt from "Silence — Angela B. Chrysler

If you were dying ...
If you were sixteen and dying ...
If your blood was spilling out of you, calling to them, the creatures of the night, and you knew you were dying ...
If you saw their pale faces and the gleam of sharp teeth in the moonlight, and you felt your blood spilling warmly over your hands, and you knew beyond any doubt that you were dying ...
Wouldn't you say yes?
Yes, turn me.
Yes, I want to live.
Yes ... make me one of you. — Tamara Summers

Youngsters inspired by Maoism have taken the gun and are spilling blood on streets, but our land needs the colour of progress not the colour of blood. Maoists must not have the gun in their hands, instead they must have agriculture tools and pens so that they can serve others. Raasta kalam, hal aur pasine ka hai, khoon ka nahi. — Narendra Modi

Despite spending trillions of dollars and spilling the blood of thousands of Americans, we remain in servitude to Arab oil. — Kathleen Troia McFarland

It came to him that he had turned away from the buffalo not because of a womanish nausea at blood and stench and spilling gut; it came to him that he had sickened and turned away because of his shock at seeing the buffalo, a few moments before proud and noble and full of the dignity of life, now stark and helpless, a length of inert meat, divested of itself, or his notion of its self, swinging grotesquely, mockingly, before him. It was not itself; or it was not that self that he had imagined it to be. That self was murdered; and in that murder he had felt the destruction of something within him, and he had not been able to face it. So he had turned away. — John Edward Williams

Though you are three times more beautiful than angels,
Though you are the sister of the river willows,
I will kill you with my singing,
Without spilling your blood on the ground.
Not touching you with my hand,
Not giving you one glance, I will stop loving you,
But with your unimaginable groans
I will finally slake my thirst.
From her, who wandered the earth before me,
Crueler than ice, more fiery than flame,
From her, who still exists in the ether
From her you will set me free. — Anna Akhmatova

His cheeks were slick with tears that spilled over his diamond eyes, a ceaseless flow he neither noticed nor appeared to care about. And she had a feeling it was going to be a while before the leaking stopped-an inner artery had been nicked and this was the blood of his heart, spilling out of him, covering him. — J.R. Ward

All civilizations at some time have fallen into this total terror, when the mystery of life was a kind of panic only to be assuaged by the spilling of blood. — Laurie Lee

I'm frightened of eggs, worse than frightened, they revolt me. That white round thing without any holes ... have you ever seen anything more revolting than an egg yolk breaking and spilling its yellow liquid? Blood is jolly, red. But egg yolk is yellow, revolting. I've never tasted it. — Alfred Hitchcock

Several Mohammedan countries in North Africa and the Middle East are precisely in a period of fourteenth-century development and can show us, in a number of respects, a reflection of what the European medieval world was like. Similar towns, their houses piled one upon another, narrow swarming streets, enclosing a few sumptuous palaces; the same extremes of appalling misery among the poor and of opulence among great lords; the same story-tellers at the corners of the streets, propagating both myths and news; the same population, nine-tenths illiterate, submitting through long years to oppression and then suddenly rebelling violently in murderous panic; the same influence of religious conscience upon public affairs; the same fanaticism; the same intrigues among the powerful; the same hate among rival factions; the same plots so curiously ravelled that their solution lies only in the spilling of blood! — Maurice Druon

Nicole lay where he'd put her, still unconscious, her long strawberry-blond locks spilling over the grass like blood, her bottom lip swollen from biting it. He gathered her in his arms, aware that he hadn't held a female this way since his mate. But Terese had been smaller. Lighter. Much more fragile. And where Terese had smelled of rose water, Nicole's warm skin carried a hint of crisp pears. What. The. Hell. Why in the world was he comparing the two? They were opposites. Human and vampire. Tall and petite. Evil slaver and innocent victim. — Larissa Ione

Most of this I've told before, or at least hinted at, but what I have never told is the full truth. How I cracked. How at work one morning, standing on the pig line, I felt something break open in my chest. I don't know what it was. I'll never know. But it was real, I know that much, it was a physical rapture
a cracking-leaking-popping feeling. I remember dropping my water gun. Quickly, almost without thought, I took off my apron and walked out of the plant and drove home. It was midmorning, I remember, and the house was empty. Down in my chest there was still that leaking sensation, something very warm and precious spilling out, and I was covered with blood and hog-stink, and for a long while I just concentrated on holding myself together. — Tim O'Brien

Am I pushing or dying? the light up there, the immense round blazing white light is drinking me. It drinks me slowly, inspires me into space. If I do not close my eyes, it will drink all of me. I seep upward, in long icy threads, too light, and yet inside me there is a fire too, the nerves are twisted, there is no rest from this long tunnel dragging me, or am I pushing myself out of the tunnel, or is the child being pushed out of me, or is the light drinking me. Am I dying? The ice in the veins, the cracking of the bones, this pushing in darkness, with a small shaft of light in the eyes like the edge of the knife, the feeling of a knife cutting the flesh, the flesh somewhere is tearing as if it were burned through by a flame, somewhere my flesh is tearing and the blood is spilling out. I am pushing in the darkness, in utter darkness. — Anais Nin

I think the blood is spilling in Syria and it's mostly Muslims. — Dalia Mogahed

the government-controlled Saudi daily Al-Riyadh published a column declaring that "the Jews' spilling human blood to prepare pastry for their holidays is a well-established fact. — Stephen Greenblatt

We also can't try to take over and rebuild every country that falls into crisis. That's not leadership; that's a recipe for quagmire, spilling American blood and treasure that ultimately weakens us. It's the lesson of Vietnam, of Iraq - and we should have learned it by now. — Barack Obama

You're no man." "No," said Coyote. "I am his unflattering reflection." He shook his head. "I have outlived billions of gallons of blood, and you think I somehow delight in the spilling of a few more pints. You see my hand in the affairs of a few mortals and you think that I've but wound them up so I can watch them bounce off one another in the night. Never have you asked yourself why I might do such a thing--to what end this bloodshed might serve. The trouble with human beings is that when examining the actions of others, they always apply their own ethics and point of view., hoping to understand them in the context of what they might do and why they might do such a thing. When no answer lies in that examination, they always ascribe malice. Malice, you see, is the only thing people understand without explanation. You are born with it and thus come to expect it. — C. Robert Cargill

As much as I enjoy a fight, I cannot always indulge myself, and just now I had more weighty matters to occupy my time than spilling the blood of strange warriors. — Edgar Rice Burroughs

It's when we start working together that the real healing takes place ... it's when we start spilling our sweat, and not our blood. — David Hume

All wars are civil ones; for it is still man spilling his own blood, tearing out his own bowels. — Francois Fenelon

Brother will kill brother, spilling blood across the land — Dave Mustaine

Dear Heavenly Father,
I have a friend who stands as close as a brother, a brave soul.
I have seen in him the heart of a warrior ...
He is gallant, loyal, and true, sacrificing his esteem, forfeiting his comfort, even spilling his blood.
But, what color is his soul?
My friend has a desperate need, and I have seen it.
How can I be his accuser, condemning the one who has gladly poured out his blood in my stead?
But shall I deny my witness?
There is a darkness, a gnawing void behind those eyes of steel ...
Will you make him a knight, dressed in holy raiment, fit to take a seat at your table? — Bryan Davis

Once a month, the moonstorm. Dust in the eyes and ghosts in the veins. The blood of woman is spilling and all the strength ebbs away. — Anais Nin

The world slowed to the beat of an ancient, ageless drum.
Celaena behold the room.
The blood was everywhere.
Before the bed, Nehemia's bodyguards lay with their throats cut from ear to ear, their internal organs spilling out onto the floor.
And on the bed ...
On the bed ...
She could hear the shouts growing closer, reaching the room, but their words were somehow muffled, as though she were underwater, the sounds coming from the surface above.
Celaena stood in the center of the freezing bedroom, gazing at the bed, and the princess's broken body atop it.
Nehemia was dead. — Sarah J. Maas