Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. (Henry V)
Blood is that fragile scarlet tree we carry within us.
The problem with the cutting edge is that someone has to bleed.
The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.
God gave us a penis and a brain, but only enough blood to run one at a time.
Finger-nails are another source of feminine excess. The woman who goes about her daily avocations with blood-red finger-nails is merely harking back to the days of savagery, when hands smeared with blood were a sign of successful fighting.
And every one of the house of Israel, or of the strangers who sojourn among them, that eateth any manner of blood, – I will set my face against the soul that hath eaten blood, and will cut him off from among his people. (Leviticus 17:10)
Being blonde is definitely a different state of mind. I can’t really put my finger on it, but the artifice of being blonde has some incredible sort of sexual connotation.
My blood ran cold.