It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.
Poetry and painting are done in the same way you make love; it's an exchange of blood, a total embrace - without caution, without any thought of protecting yourself.
The soul, which is spirit, can not dwell in dust; it is carried along to dwell in the blood.
I will take what is mine with fire and blood.
Love heats my blood, blood spins my head, and my head falls in love.
A man who is good enough to shed his blood for the country is good enough to be given a square deal afterwards.
By blood a king, in heart a clown.
Blood will have blood.
The tongue like a sharp knife ... Kills without drawing blood.
No matter how much you think you love somebody, you'll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close.
Red like blood White like bone Red like solitude White like silence Red like the beastly instinct White like a god's heart Red like thawing hatred White like a frozen, pained cry Red like the night's hungry shadows Like a sigh piercing the moon it shines white and shatters red
I've known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
It is courage, courage, courage, that raises the blood of life to crimson splendor. Live bravely and present a brave front to adversity
The seas are the heart's blood of the earth.
Of all writings I love only that which is written with blood. Write with blood: and you will discover that blood is spirit.
Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.
Poetry proceeds from the totality of man, sense, imagination, intellect, love, desire, instinct, blood and spirit together.
When we hate our enemies, we are giving them power over us: power over our sleep, our appetites, our blood pressure, our health and our happiness. Our enemies would dance with joy if only they knew how they were worrying us, lacerating us, and getting even with us! Our hate is not hurting them at al, but our hate is turning our days and nights into a hellish turmoil.
There is no glory in battle worth the blood it costs.
The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
In countries where innocent people are dying, the leaders are following their blood rather than their brains.
Absence does not make the heart grow fonder, but it sure heats up the blood.
The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.
The 'pure' red of which certain abstractionists speak does not exist. Any red is rooted in blood, glass, wine, hunters' caps and a thousand other concrete phenomena. Otherwise we would have no feeling toward red and its relations.
The blood is life... and it shall be mine!
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