In literature and art memory is a synonyme for invention. It is the life-blood of imagination, which faints and dies when the veins are empty.
Robert Aris Willmott
Knavery and flattery are blood relations.
Abraham Lincoln
Seek to make a person blush for their guilt rather than shed their blood.
Publius Cornelius Tacitus
The blood of Jesus Christ can cover a multitude of sins, it seems to me.
Denis Diderot
However boldly their warm blood was spilt, Their life was shame, their epitaph was guilt; And this they knew and felt, at least the one, The leader of the hand he had undone,-- Who, born for better things, had madly set His life upon a cast, which linger'd yet.
Unknown
Such a fatigue of adjectives, a drone of alliterations, a huffing of hyphenated words hurdling the meter like tired horses. Such a faded upholstery of tears, stars, bells, bones, flood and blooda thud of consonants in tongue, night, dark, dust, seed, wound and wind.
Anatole Broyard
There is this long, wonderful history of the human race written in blood. We have this tendency to just take what we want. And that's how we treat the natural world as well. There's this sense of we're here, we're big, we've got the guns, we've got the technology, therefore we're entitled to every damn thing on this planet. That's not how it works and we're going to find out the hard way if we don't kind of wise up and start seeking a life that's in balance with the natural life on Earth.
James Cameron
Name me any liquid except our own blood that flows more intimately and incessantly through the labyrinth of symbols we have conceived to make our status as human beings, from the rudest peasant festival to the mystery of the Eucharist. To take wine into our mouths is to savor a droplet of the river of human history
Clifton Fadiman
From the back label of a Cline Zin: Zin Prayer "Know me, stranger, For I am thy life blood and thy nectar. I shall wet thy lips, parched by the winds of deprivation. And nourished shall be thy body, dessicated by the scorching inferno of temperance. Rest thy head upon my bosom, Lose thyself in the ecstasy of my caresses, And know me, For I am ZINFANDEL
Doug Brown
All good poetry is forged slowly and patiently, link by link, with sweat and blood and tears
Alfred Douglas