A Quote by Hiromu Arakawa

Fool! Nothing but black ink runs through my veins! — © Hiromu Arakawa
Fool! Nothing but black ink runs through my veins!
The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.
I am proud of my black roots and of the black blood that runs in my veins.
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
Why didn't Eternity have this deformed age aborted ? Its birthmark is the stamp of a newspaper, its medium is printer's ink, and in its veins flows ink.
Country music runs through my veins. I love it very much.
I'm very proud of my heritage and the blood that runs through my veins. I take a lot of strength from that.
February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars Burns in the blackness of the spring. Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas, Race through the noice of bells and wheels To where the ink and all you grieving Are muffled when the rainshower falls. To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal, A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees, Fall down into the puddles, hurl Dry sadness deep into the eyes. Below, the wet black earth shows through, With sudden cries the wind is pitted, The more haphazard, the more true The poetry that sobs its heart out.
The kundalini runs through you. It runs through the ida and the pingala, the two nerve channels in the subtle body; but there's a central channel, the shushumna, which is blocked. When it runs through that, then you can use the mystical kundalini.
While I'm a New Yorker at heart, and 'Harlem Honey' runs through my veins, Atlanta - its awesome residents and glorious landscapes - has a special place in the hearts of my family and I.
Character is an essential tendency. It can be covered up, it can be messed with, it can be screwed around with, but it can't be ultimately changed. It's the structure of our bones, the blood that runs through our veins.
Mexican music runs through my veins. I loved it. Growing up, my father didn't allow us to listen to English music at home. That's all I heard. I had no choice.
Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black, and a red powder seeps through my veins.
In writing biography, fact and fiction shouldn't be mixed. And if they are, the fictional points should be printed in red ink, the facts printed in black ink.
People can't believe how hard I work.... I love it. I think it just runs through my veins. My great-grandfather was a bellboy and had a dream to do a hotel chain, so I think I get it from him.
Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream
You never cared that I was your sister before.” “Didn’t I?” His black eyes flicked up and down her. “Our father’s dead,” he said. “There are no other relatives. You and I, we are the last. The last of the Morgensterns. You are the only one left whose blood runs in my veins, too. You are my last chance.
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