Quotes
Quotes about Blood
A scholar's ink lasts longer than a martyr's blood.
Blood alone moves the wheels of history.
The thorn from the bush one has planted, nourished and pruned pricks more deeply and draws more blood.
The best blood will at some time get into a fool or a mosquito.
Music is not written in red, white and blue. It is written in the heart's blood of the composer.
A pint of sweat will save a gallon of blood.
Blood is a cleansing and sanctifying thing, and the nation that regards it as the final horror has lost its manhood... there are many things more horrible than bloodshed, and slavery is one of them!
The best blood will at some time get into a fool or a mosquito.
The future can be anything we want it to be, providing we have the faith and that we realize that peace, no less than war, required "blood and sweat and tears.".
The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.
Blood is a cleansing and sanctifying thing, and the nation that regards it as the final horror has lost its manhood ... there are many things more horrible than bloodshed, and slavery is one of them!
Blood will tell, but often it tells too much.
Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog its day.
No one need think that the world can be ruled without blood. The civil sword shall and must be red and bloody.
Peace, above all things, is to be desired, but blood must sometimes be spilled to obtain it on equable and lasting terms.
Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.
The brave man, indeed, calls himself lord of the land, through his iron, through his blood. [Ger., Zwar der Tapfere nennt sich Herr der Lander Durch sein Eisen, durch sein Blut.]
In cold blood he leapt into burning Etna. [Lat., Ardentem frigidus Aetnam insiluit.]
Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests, and like deceitful jades Sink in the trial.
He makes a July's day short as December, And with his varying childness cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood.
And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore.
Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
The real presence of Christ's most precious Body and Blood is not to be sought for in the Sacrament, but in the worthy receiver of the Sacrament.
The Divine Perfections. How shall I praise th' eternal God, That Infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, Or venture near his throne? The great invisible! He dwells Conceal'd in dazzling light: But his all-searching eye reveals The secrets of the night. Those watchful eyes that never sleep, Survey the world around; His wisdom is the boundless deep, Where all our thoughts are drown'd. He knows no shadow of a change, Nor alters his decrees; Firm as a rock his truth remains, To guard his promises. Justice, upon a dreadful throne, Maintains the rights of God; While mercy sends her pardons down, Bought with a Saviour's blood. Now to my soul immortal King, Speak some forgiving word; Then `twill be double joy to sing The glories of my Lord.
Who has not marveled at the might of kings When voyaging down the river of dead years? What deeds of death to still an hour of fears, What waste of wealth to gild a moth's frail wings! A Caesar to the breeze his banner flings, An Alexander with his bloody spears, A Herod heedless of his people's tears! And Rome in ruin while Nero laughs and sings: Ye actors of a drama, cruel and cold, Your names are by-words in Love's temple now, Your pomp and glory but a winding-sheet; Then Christ came scorning regal power and gold To wear warm blood-drops on a willing brow, And we, in love, forever kiss His feet.
