We are one. Man, horse, lance, we are one beast of blood and wood and iron. — George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
We are one. Man, horse, lance, we are one beast of blood and wood and iron. — George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
We are one. Man, horse, lance, we are one beast of blood and wood and iron. — George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
We are one. Man, horse, lance, we are one beast of blood and wood and iron. — George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
We are one. Man, horse, lance, we are one beast of blood and wood and iron. — George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
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We are one. Man, horse, lance, we are one beast of blood and wood and iron.

— George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
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More “Blood” Quotes

Ah! listen the song of storm from my disturbed soul;and it scatters flower buds into its lonely halls;like every pain ne — Nithin Purple, Venus and Crepuscule: Beauty and Violence on Me Thrown
The thick baffling blades of false world customs rip off my views and ideas,like breaking every string of my aesthetic t — Nithin Purple, Venus and Crepuscule: Beauty and Violence on Me Thrown
Some of us can live without a society but not without a family. — Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words
In united families, they might sleep with half filled stomach but no one sleeps with empty stomach. — Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words
You can take the Indian out of the family, but you cannot take the family out of the Indian. — Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words
In your name, the family name is at last because it's the family name that lasts. — Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words
War is not just the shower of bullets and bombs from both sides, it is also the shower of blood and bones on both sides. — Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words
I am not a Sunday morning inside four wallswith clean bloodand organized drawers.I am the hurricane setting fire to the — Charlotte Eriksson
The blood jet is poetryThere is no stopping it. — Sylvia Plath, Ariel
Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these mu — Jean Cocteau
In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain. — Aberjhani, The River of Winged Dreams
poetrymelts my bones.enters my blood.and changesits composition. — Sanober Khan