Emilie Warnock: What is that? Snow: That's to stop the bleeding. And hopefully the talking.
— James Mather, Stephen St. Leger, Emilie Warnock, Maggie Grace, imdb.com
Catalog
Quotes tagged ‘bleeding’
Your heart's a vine that I've bled trying to climb.
Don't you know I'm no good for you I've learned to lose you, can't afford to Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin' But nothin' ever stops you leavin'
Phoebus: Why is it, whenever we meet, I end up bleeding? Esmeralda: You're lucky. That arrow almost pierced your heart. Phoebus: [holding her hand to his heart] I'm not so sure it didn't.
— Irene Mecchi, Tab Murphy, Jonathan Roberts, Bob Tzudiker, Noni White, Phoebus (voice), Kevin Kline, imdb.com
She laid there bleeding by the side of the road. Cold and alone. That's how she died in the early morning. Cold and alone. And I was watching TV.
So you pulled my heart out. And I don't mind bleeding.
That is how I see mankind in its suffering; that is how I see the suffering people of Europe, bleeding to death on deserted battlefields after conflicts which to a great extent were not their own.
You know the difference between me and you? I bleed red and you bleed green.
Everybody’s damaged. It’s just a question of how badly, and whether you’re healing or still bleeding.
Love bleeds you dry until the red organ ceases to beat.
Stab my back it's better when I bleed for you
If your first time involves penetration, a little pain or pressure might be expected. That said, it should still be overall pleasurable — not painful. So if it hurts a lot, stop. This could be a signal that you need more foreplay or lubrication.
It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
My first wife was like the rash you get from poison ivy. I couldn't stand her, but I couldn't keep my hands off her. She was an itch I scratched until I bled.
The blade sings to me. Faintly, so soft against my ears, its voice calms my worries and tells me that one touch will take it all away. It tells me that I just need to slide a long horizontal cut, and make a clean slice. It tells me the words that I have been begging to hear: this will make it ok.
You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I'd crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation was provocation enough. Cutting was my all-…
I stopped. She was bleeding after all. Perfect lines crossed her wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across her skin. She hadn't hit her veins when she did this; death hadn't been her goal.