A Quote by Roger Zelazny

The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden. — © Roger Zelazny
The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.
My style during the day is very casual - boyfriend jeans, T-shirts, Converse, Uggs, whatever. At night, I love heels and thigh-highs, I like something fresh and new, and I'm not afraid to push the envelope.
Yes, long hours and a hard life for my parents, but for a six to seven year old every new day dawned with fresh excitement when you have not a care in the world, and so much to learn and witness.
Back in the day, we ate fresh; our parents cooked. Now, we're starting to think things are fresh because they're in a can, they're in a box, or they're frozen. That's not fresh. It's difficult to get real fresh.
It's hard to find peace with your thighs, but when they chafe, try to be grateful for them. Your thighs let you run and get you where you want to go. I have not just thigh peace but thigh happiness, and it begins with thigh gratitude.
You can get away with black sweatpants for a day or two, but pink is something you wear for one day: the day before you go to the washer or cleaners. When people wear pink t-shirts for three straight days, it disturbs me. It aggravates me.
Relish the fresh landscape of my wound, break rushes and delicate rivulets, drink blood poured on honeyed thigh.
Im wearing an outfit that looks just like a cupcake ... a pink frothy blouse, low cut ... everything a little inappropriately girlie ... Pink, pink, lot of pink, ... Out of Practice.
I hit your thigh!” “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh.
I am like a snake who has already bitten. I retreat from a direct battle while knowing the slow effect of the poison.
No one has ever bitten me, and I've never bitten anyone on the court.
I'm a thigh-meat dude. Thigh is just the best meat - I don't get chicken breast. I think it's a publicity stunt that we've convinced people it's delicious.
I loved the angiogram. They stick a thing in your thigh and it goes all the way up to your heart. Isn't that a thrill? Well, at least the nurse scored thigh.
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
The day of the android has dawned.
The air brightened, the running shadow patches were now the obverse, and it seemed to him that the fact that the day was clearing was another cunning stroke on the part of the foe, the fresh battle toward which he was carrying ancient wounds.
I gave to pink, the nerve of the red, a neon pink, an unreal pink.
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