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1 " I got a head start and ws already hanging upside down when he caught up. All the blood was rushing to my head, making me feel dizzy. " I can't stay like this much longer," I told him." Head rush." He leaned down and stuck his face next to mine, gifting me with a beautiful smile." I know the feeling," he said. " You give me a head rush all the time. "
2 " Recently I've been having the fantasy more and more" the one where Tack and I run away, disappear under the wide-open sky into the forest with leaves like green hands, welcoming us. In my fantasy, the more we walk, the cleaner we get, like the woods are rubbing away the past few years, all the blood and the fighting and the scars - sloughing off the bad memories and the false starts, leaving us shiny and new, like dolls just taken out of the package.And in this fantasy, my fantasy life, we find a stone cottage hidden deep in the forest, untouched, fitted with beds and rugs and plates and everything we need to live - like the owners just picked up and walked away, or like the house had been built for us and was just waiting all this time.We fish the stream and hunt the woods in the summer. We grow potatoes and peppers and tomatoes big as pumpkins. In the winter we stay inside by the fire while snow falls around us like a blanket, stilling the world, cocooning it in sleep. "
3 " In some literature, I’ve read, weather is used as a metaphor. The darker and stormier the weather outside the more diabolical the deeds done. When the clouds roll away, however, the rain has washed away all the blood in the streets and the world is clean and new again, as if all the violence and destruction of the storm served a divine purpose. "
― Benjamin R. Smith , Atlas
4 " She’s all the blood I’ve ever shed. She’s every time I’ve ever thought of death. She’s every time I’ve ever looked at happiness and thought, ‘That’s not meant for me. "
5 " Charlie touched her face gently with long, tanned fingers. “Sometimes I don’t know half of what you say, but I’m damn glad I get to hear it.”“I bet you say that to all the mortals,” she joked, then winced as the pain shot through her again.“You’ve been hurt,” he said, as if noticing for the first time all the blood and gore and exposed body goo.“Yeah, but it only hurts when I laugh.”“Then don’t laugh,” he murmured, finishing the old routine as if he’d been born into Vaudeville. His hands gently probed the edges of the gash. "
6 " The man who refuses to judge, who neither agrees nor disagrees, who declares that there are no absolutes and believes that he escapes responsibility, is the man responsible for all the blood that is now spilled in the world. Reality is an absolute, existence is an absolute, a speck of dust is an absolute and so is a human life. Whether you live or die is an absolute. Whether you have a piece of bread or not, is an absolute. Whether you eat your bread or see it vanish into a looter's stomach, is an absolute.There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil. The man who is wrong still retains some respect for truth, if only by accepting the responsibility of choice. But the man in the middle is the knave who blanks out the truth in order to pretend that no choice or values exist, who is willing to sit out the course of any battle, willing to cash in on the blood of the innocent or to crawl on his belly to the guilty, who dispenses justice by condemning both the robber and the robbed to jail, who solves conflicts by ordering the thinker and the fool to meet each other halfway. In any compromise between food and poison, it is only death that can win. In any compromise between good and evil, it is only evil that can profit. In that transfusion of blood which drains the good to feed the evil, the compromise is the transmitting rubber tube. "
― Ayn Rand , Atlas Shrugged
7 " Not maybe. Definitely! We have an expression back home in Haiti, which says something like ‘a man who is thinking with his penis.’ That is what you are Michael. That doesn’t mean that you are addicted to sex or pornography. You are not a pervert of any kind. Contrary! You are just too sensitive with women. You fall in love at the blink of an eye and all your decisions are based on your passions towards a particular woman. Your mind gets blurry because not enough blood goes to your brain. And your heart pumps all the blood back to your penis and that is why you are a man who thinks with his penis.” (Ch.7) "
― Stevan V. Nikolic , Truth According to Michael
8 " Staying level with Tess was going to require fast thinking, which was mighty difficult considering all the blood he needed for said thought processes was now hurtling south.“What would this job involve?”“Only one task. Make. Me. Believe.”“That I’m your fiancé?”Cue her smile, sly and sexy. First time she’d let him in on that action, too. “That you want me more than your next breath.”If she moved forward a couple of inches, his boner would make her believe. "
― Kate Meader , Even the Score (Tall, Dark, and Texan, #1)
9 " There were two things Southerners hated to see knocking on their door. Jehovah Witnesses, because the majority of us were Baptist, and the undertaker. It was understandable that when Terk Rhinehammer opened the door, his face turned white as all the blood was drained from it after he looked past me and saw my hearse. " What's wrong?" He used his hands to pat down his chest. " I'm not dead, am I? "
10 " I have never heard anyone profess indifference to a boat race. Why should you row a boat race? Why endure long months of pain in preparation of a fierce half hour, or even six minutes, that will leave you all but dead? Does anyone ask the question? Is there anyone who would not go through all its costs, and more, for the moment when anguish breaks into triumph - or even for the glory of having nobly lost? Is life less than a boat race? If a man will give all the blood in his body to win the one, will he not spend all the might of his soul to prevail in the other? "
― Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.
11 " Everything she wanted to tell her, was unable to tell her, because she was afraid of hearing her own voice come out of her heart and be covered with blood, and then she poured all the blood into these syllables, and she offered it to her to drink like this : “You have it. "
― Hélène Cixous , The Book of Promethea