Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Sickle. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Sickle Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Geoffrey Chaucer,Ibi Kaslik,Rich Burlew,Julie Sternberg,Orson Scott Card for you to enjoy and share.
The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
When I wake, a piece of sharp green glass on the floor is cutting into my hand and I know it's a sign. I etch a letter on my hand; put it on top so I can see the jagged edges bleeding out; S. S is for sorrow, for all I don't say. S is for sick now, my punishing ways.
Hi Haley. look, I found all these free swords. They were in my spleen.
pickle juice on a cookie.
Guils is the greatest weapon vecause its cuts rarely heal and it aims for the heart
Go get your gun because God won't show.
He sent a poet instead.
The Don Quixote of the ICU. Quite impressive for a cripple. Munchhausen by proxy of a muse.
Tempt not a desperate man. This split lip is for you. I traded it for an outdated tooth.
I open the door to the fear landscape room and flip open the small black box that was in my back pocket to see the syringes inside. This is the box I have always used, padded around the needles; it is a sign of something sick inside me, or something brave.
I live with carpe diem engrave on my heart.
Tylenol and murder.
Let the sick man enter into the Side of Jesus and His most holy Wounds; let him not be afraid, but combat manfully, and he will come forth victorious.
Take a writer away from his typewriter
and all you have left
is
the sickness
which started him
typing
in the
beginning
The war-sick men,
By fire, fever, storm and sword, your blood shall suffer this bane. No peace or joy for Wintersloe's lord, till the puzzle ring is whole again
..all forms of needlework of the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for keeping the foolish from applying their hearts to wisdom.
A pretty pickle, truly, thought I; abed here in a strange house in the broad day, with a cannibal and a tomahawk.
What do you get when you mix my blood with holy water?" Nick
"Demon napalm"Kody
Worse than a bloody hand is a hard heart.
Kindle in thy heart the flame of love.
You'll recall," said Sickert, brushing dust from his trousers with the back of his hand, "that a year or two ago I was chased through the back streets of King's Cross by a posse of prostitutes all crying 'Jack the Ripper!' after me.
The knife in the hand of a murderer kills, but if you give it to a doctor he will heal with it.
I'm missing a knuckle, it's crushed inside my hand at the moment.
Master Li, how are we going to murder a man who laughs at axes?" I asked.
We are going to experiment, dear boy. Our first order of business will be to find a deranged alchemist, which should not be very difficult. China," said Master Li, "is overstocked with deranged alchemists.
(Health 5) Carrot
One time, that true brass thimble.
Dark accurate plunger down the successive knell
Of arch on arch, where ogives burst a red
Reverberance of hail upon the dead
Thunder like an exploding crucible!
bloody nose. Fred,
The sickness is to sit at the base of the lighthouse staring into nothing. The lighthouse is black, the sea is black, the writer's jacket is also black.
I am a blade of silver, a sickle of ice - Assassin Ghe, old assassin mantra
This that is tormented and very tired,
tortured with restraints like a madman,
this heart.
I know what I'm asking. For you to find a needle in - God, not even a haystack. A needle in a tower of other needles."
"Plunge your hand in a tower of needles," said Magnus, "and you are likely to cut yourself badly. Are you sure this is what you want?
Now that I have this piglet talisman... who knows what I might find the poor judgment to do?
Ill is the very word to speak, for none Can ransom or atone For blood once shed and darkening the plain.
bradawl. It was just a blunt steel spike set into a handle.
A dimple on the chin, the devil within.
A sinful heart makes feeble hand.
Here and there, a form stirred feebly, victim of war's sorcery, struggling against the enchantment of death.
Medicine for the soul.
The war-sick camp,
It'll never get well if you pick it.Pick-- Noel Coward
It is something that is called MDS. It is a rare blood disorder that affects the bone marrow. I'm going to beat this. My doctors say it and my faith says it.
Squeamish stomachs cannot eat without pickles.
My son smiled. "You taught me well, Father."
"What did I teach you?"
"That a spear-point in a prisoner's liver is a very persuasive thing.
The barberry berry sticks on the small hedge,
cold slits the same crease in the finger,
the same thorn hurts. The leaf repeats the lesson.
Miles above the Earth we know , Fancy's rocket roars. Below, Here and Now are needles which Sew a pattern black as pitch, Waiting for the rocket's light.
The black serpant of wounded vanity gnawed at his heart?
Heart, you were never hot
Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot
Why is my needle stuck in childhood? I don't know why. I guess it's because that's where my heart is.
Affliction, like the iron-smith, shapes as it smites.
Ill natures, the more you aske them, the more they stick.
dangerous weapon
What heart can think, or tongue express, The harm that groweth of idleness?
I have, of all the inglorious things, a malignant hemorrhoid. What color bracelet does one wear for that? And where does one wear it? And what slogan is apropos? Perhaps that slogan can be sewn in needlepoint around the ruffle on a cover for my embarrassing little doughnut buttocks pillow.
I have a sickness doctors can't cure,
Inexorably pulling me to the well of my destruction,
Consented to be a sacrifice, killed for her love,
Eager, like the drunk gulping wine mixed with poison,
Shameless were those my nights,
Yet my soul loved them beyond all passion.
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift; Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, I'll tell thee thou dost evil.
What are you typing with? A potato?
Its face crinkled up grotesquely, the eyes narrowing like those of a laughing Buddha, the lips peeling back to expose a sickle of brilliant teeth.
What is more cruel than a tyrant's ear?
The most dangerous weapon is the one that strikes closest to the heart.
A soul you say? Give my pocketwatch to a savage and he'll think it has a soul.
Life! What Inscrutable Card Shall Ye Throw Next Upon the Soft Felt of Our Days?
The finger cut, to save the hand.
I burned my own damn finger pokin' someone else's fire
What is genius or courage without a heart?
We still, alas, cannot forestall it-
This dreadful ailment's heavy toll;
The spleen is what the English call it,
We call it simply, Russian soul.
A peace that blacked yer eye," I say. "A piece that split you lip.
God did raise a finger to stop you. Here I am. Guess which finger."
~Emma Jane Hellsbane, /Hellsbane series Book 1/
I GOT TIGAR BLOOD
What's this "
"A needle."
"What should I do with it " He'd walked right into it. Too easy.
"Please use it to pop your head. It's obscuring my view of the room.
The artful injury, whose venomed dart scarce wounds the hearing, while it stabs the heart.
Scummer, pox and wound rot!" roared Tunstall, slamming his fist down on the bed. "Gods cursed the pig-tarsed mammering craven currish beef-witted bum-licking gut-griping louts that did this to me! May every flea, leech and hookworm in all creation find and feast upon them!
Located two ribs below the heart, it is called hate.
The sick are all so afraid of their own uncontrollable power! Somehow they cannot believe that they are only people, holding only a human-sized anger!
No iron can pierce the human heart as chillingly as a full stop placed at the right time.
My heart is sick / and I didn't make it out.
cheek, the one so disfigured by that
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
The sick in mind, and, perhaps, in body, are rendered more darkly and hopelessly so by the manifold reflection of their disease, mirrored back from all quarters in the deportment of those about them; they are compelled to inhale the poison of their own breath, in infinite repetition.
Have a heartattack!
People talk about the horrors of war, but what weapon has a man invented that even approaches in cruelty some of the commoner diseases? 'Natural' death, almost by defintion, means something slow, smelly and painful.
Blessed be the name of the Lord, the disease is not incurable; the Savior's precious blood is the universal remedy, and
Would that some could find the courage to help themselves. Craster sprawls in his loft even now, stinking of wine and lost to sense. On his board below lies a sharp new axe. Were it me, I'd name it Answered Prayer' and make an end.
Can a split quill write fair script?
Can a blunt axe cut wood for the fire?
Can a cripple please a lady?
Warmblood now a bloodborne death,
Will rob your body of it's breath
Mark your skin and seal your fate
The Underland becomes a plate
You aren't afraid of needles. I see one, and I start crying like a baby."
"I've never seen you cry."
"It's on the inside.
Daggers. Never leave home without them.
The prince's blood was on my hands.
Disturbing crunch as
Skin is punctured for access
Sweet, warm, filling blood
Hee that lives ill, feare followes him.
water needles
stitch up the split
shadow-he fights his way
deeper down, free.
An ill labourer quarrells with his tooles.
Poverty of young men alone behind the
stairways, who practice
alchemy inside bottle caps, who know
the altruism of a last syringe.
I was born with a broken key in my mouth.
Beauty's Curse
Her bow is drawn to worlds of dark,
where arrows spring and miss their mark
she'll turn their heads but not their hearts.
I'm sick with life, I'm rotten with health.
You travel with a whetstone on your arm? (Kiara)
You don't ever want to kill someone with a dull knife. It takes too long to sever their arteries, or puncture organs, and it makes it even messier than normal. (Nykyrian)
A match as a pen
Blood on the floor as ink
The forgotten gauze cover as paper
But what should I write?
I might just manage my address
This ink is strange; it clots
I write you from a prison
in Greece
The scalpel is the greatest proof of the failure of medicine.
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
No sheth an sary'
(No herb shall heal like blood on the steel)
Alternatively you can twist the cylinder round twice clockwise; that turns it into a hand grenade. Five-second fuse. I tested it on one of my assistants. Poor old Bennett ... he should be out of hospital in a couple of months.