People can have their opinions about everything in the world, but people's opinions end where the tip of my nose begins. Your opinions of others can only go so far as to where their own shoreline is. The world is for your taking, but other people are not. One is only allowed to have an opinion of me, if that person is done educating him/herself on everything about me. Before people educate themselves on everything about you, they're not allowed to open their venomous mouthes and have an opinion about you.
Ransom really looked at the other man for the first time, shook his head, stared again.“Holy hell, your eyes are like a fucking viper’s.” Venom raised an eyebrow.“You have hair prettier than one of Astaad’s concubines.” Ransom gave the vampire the finger. Venom grinned.
If you lay with a scorpion, don't be surprised when it finally stings you.
When someone is angry and hateful toward you ~ they spit out all kinds of venom, to inflict you with unnecessary hurt and pain. But when you know who you are within, and you stand by your truth, their venom cannot poison you, its arrow turns and points straight back at them! To be humble and virtuous is a trait of the noble and the righteous
Have you ever had one of those moments when the world around you comes to a crashing halt? When your heart beats so loudly that it drowns out every other sound? When the universe collapses to a single, solitary, radiant point of energy? This was one of those moments for me. The last time I heard the name Sandra Flax, Clinton was still screwing that ugly chick from Arkansas." The squirrel cocked his head to the side. "Not Hillary, the other one, before the chubby kid." The squirrel still looked confused. "Fine! It was 1989. Anyway, the sound of Sandra's name sent shivers down my spine and reawakened a hatred so venomous, at one time I thought it would be my undoing.
As in a tree, there is more sap in an Arm of the tree, than in a little sprig; but the sprig hath the same sap for kind that the Arm of the tree hath, and it all comes from the same root. So though there be more venom in some gross, crying sins, than in some others; yet there is no sin but hath the same sap, and the same venom, for the kind, that every sin hath, that the worst sin hath.
Scientists gladly accept any new truth demonstrated by evidence, that is, proved by the very law of the cosmos. Not so with any new conceptions of religion; these are fought by the use of persecution and venom. Many of the current religious beliefs literally carried into practice would stampede humanity into the old jungle ideas and habits.
Illium, his expression subdued as it had been for too many days, turned to her. “Mind if I have a go?”“Kick his ass.”Stripping off his shirt and boots, Illium held out his hand for one of Venom’s blades. Lips curving, Venom passed it over. “Sure you can handle me, pretty, pretty Bluebell?”“Did I ever tell you about my snakeskin boots?” A savage grin, and she knew Venom was about to bear the brunt of whatever haunted the blue-winged angel.Venom swirled his blade in hand. “I do think I need some new feathers for my pillow.
It takes a few days for the transformation to be complete, depending on how much venom is in the bloodstream, how close the venom is to the heart. As long as the heart keeps beating, poison spreads, healing, changing the body as it moves through it. Eventually the heart stops, and the conversion is finished. But all the time, every minute of it, a victim would be wishing for death
To my lovely starling, Maybe there are magical words that will make you understand, but if so, I do not know them. Words are your domain. I've always been better with pictures. I fear you think I am a monster. It's true I've disrupted many graves. The way I see it, the dead are dead. If, after their death, we can learn things from the about the human form - things that will increase the sum of human knowledge and the possibilities of art - what harm is that? After death, new life, new beauty. How can that be wrong? My friends and I have made use of some of the bodies as models. some we sell to surgeons who study them with the hopes of learning something about the frail mechanisms of the human body. I don't know exactly what Dottor de Gradi does in his workshop on the Rialto, and I was as surprised as you were to stumble on it. He couldn't - he wouldn't tell me if your friend's body ended up there. But he did assure me all of his work is focused solely on extending human life. I won't lie. I did it for the money as well. Don Loredan is holding a private exhibition in his palazzo tomorrow. The entry fee was quite steep but two of my paintings were accepted. This could be the beginning for me. I could find my own patrons. I could be more than just a peasant. Tommaso's assistant.So yes; a little for money. But mostly I did for the art.I don't expect these words to change how you feel. I simply want you not to see me as a monster. I don't want to be a monster. Not anymore. Not after meeting you. I know that we disrupted you dear friend's body, and for that I am deeply regretful. But if we had not done so, if I had not lingered in the San Domenico churchyard after standing guard for my friends, you and I might never have met. Meeting you is one thing I will never regret. I hope you like the painting. Consider tit a wedding gift. How stupid of me to let my heart go. It was a lovely fantasy while it lasted, though, wasn't it?Yours, Falco