Quotes
Quotes about Blood
[The great questions of the day] are not decided by speeches and majority votes, but by blood and iron.
The worst of rebels never arm To do their king or country harm, But draw their swords to do them good, As doctors cure by letting blood.
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace. [Ephesians 1:7].
Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame!
If we resort to lawlessness, the only thing we can hope for is civil war, untold bloodshed, and the end of our dreams.
Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn, His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn, A little bird took from that crown one thorn. To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing head, That bird did what she could; His blood, 'tis said, Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red. Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest; Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest; All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast.
On fair Britania's isle, bright bird, A legend strange is told of thee,-- 'Tis said thy blithesome song was hushed While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary, Bowed 'neath the sins of all mankind; And humbled to the very dust By the vile cross, while viler men Mocked with a crown of thorns the Just. Pierced by our sorrows, and weighed down By our transgressions,--faint and weak, Crushed by an angry Judge's frown, And agonies no word can speak,-- 'Twas then, dear bird, the legend says That thou, from out His crown, didst tear The thorns, to lighten the distress And ease the pain that he must bear, While pendant from thy tiny beak The gory points thy bosom pressed, And crimsoned with thy Saviour's blood The sober brownness of thy breast! Since which proud hour for thee and thine. As an especial sign of grace God pours like sacramental wine Red signs of favor o'er thy race!
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings! How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed-- All murdered; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humored thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence, Throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; For you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Need friends. Subjected thus,
The robot is going to lose. Not by much. But when the final score is tallied, flesh and blood is going to beat the damn monster.
But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.
The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Sick now? droop now? This sickness doth infect The very lifeblood of our enterprise.
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here; Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear, The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood Which breathed this poison.
For piety lies not in being often seen turning a veiled head to stones, nor in approaching every altar, nor in lying prostrate...before the temples of the gods, nor in sprinkling altars with the blood of beasts...but rather in being able to look upon all things with a mind at peace.
You led our sons across the haunted flood, Into the Canaan of their high desire-- No milk and honey there, but tears and blood Flowed where the hosts of evil trod in fire, And left a worse than desert where they passed.
The soul, which is spirit, can not dwell in dust; it is carried along to dwell in the blood. [Lat., Anima certe, quia spiritus, in sicco habitare non potest; ideo in sanguine fertur habitare.]
But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
I have trodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with me: for I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury; and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain all my raiment.
Pity and need Make all flesh kin. There in no caste in blood.
Here's to the red of it, There's not a thread of it, No, not a shred of it, In all the spread of it, From foot to head, Not heroes bled for it, Faced steel and lead for it, Precious blood shed for it, Bathing in red.
We are a rebellious nation. Our whole history is treason; our blood was attained before we were born; our creeds were infidelity to the mother church; our constitution treason to our fatherland.
Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice-- The weakness and the wickedness of luxury-- The negligence--the apathy--the evils Of sensual sloth--produces ten thousand tyrants, Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing.
O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed And does blaspheme his breed?
