It's promising and seductive, that huge Italian family, sitting around the dinner table, surrounded by olive trees. But it's not my family and I am not their family, and no amount of birthing sons, and cooking dinner and raking leaves or planting the gardens or paying for the plane tickets is going to change that. If I don't come back in eleven months, I will not be missed, and no one will write me or call me to acknowledge my absence. Which is not an accusation, just a small truth about clan and bloodline.
Gabrielle HamiltonTag: blood bones-butter
Here, are the stiffening hills, here, the rich cargo
Congealed in the dark arteries,
Old veins
That hold Glamorgan's blood.
The midnight miner in the secret seams,
Limb, life, and bread.
- Rhondda Valley
Tag: blood mining wales coal hills coal-miner glamorgan miners rhondda the-land
They fought because they loved the dance, and the weight of a sword in their hands. The clash and spark of metal and hiss of flame was like music written just for them. They fought for glory, but not for blood. They were Weirlind, heirs of the warrior's stone. And they always slept better with blades beneath their beds.
The Warrior Heir Cinda Williams Chima pg. 426Tag: glory battle stone author blood heir warrior swords trilogy
But then, even with cuts, bruises and blood all over him, he looked like his jackass self again."
- Alex Gold
Revenge was sweet, but blood was sweeter.
Nadège RichardsWhen Jesus said “Whoever eats my flesh
PabloTag: life religion atheism bible jesus vampires blood zombies
I wanted to feel the blood running back into my veins, even at the cost of annihilation. I wanted to shake the stone and light out of my system. I wanted the dark fecundity of nature, the deep well of the womb, silence, or else the lapping of the black waters of death. I wanted to be that night which the remorseless eye illuminated, a night diapered with stars and trailing comets. To be of night so frighteningly silent, so utterly incomprehensible and eloquent at the same time. Never more to speak or to listen or to think.
Henry MillerTag: nature silence stars light eloquent stone blood womb incomprehensible veins annihilation fecundity
It's not about blood,"
says Lucius. "It's
about who you share
your life with.
Where you feel
you really belong.
Tag: family belong blood share-your-life
Birds and periodic blood.
Old recapitulations.
The fox, panting, fire-eyed,
gone to earth in my chest.
How beautiful we are,
he and I, with our auburn
pelts, our trails of blood,
our miracle escapes,
our whiplash panic flogging us on
to new miracles!
They’ve supplied us with pills
for bleeding, pills for panic.
Wash them down the sink.
This is truth, then:
dull needle groping for the spinal fluid,
weak acid in the bottom of the cup,
foreboding, foreboding.
No one tells the truth about truth,
that it’s what the fox
sees from his scuffled burrow:
dull-jawed, onrushing
killer, being that
inanely single-minded
will have our skins at last.
If we found a ticket to Disneyland would you think we should arrest Mickey Mouse?
Diane L. RandleTag: murder crime paranormal thriller lost-love blood drowning ghost bloodlines
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