Simply crimson Quotes

“Endless night of Eternal love in the heart of the French Quarter. Tears of Crimson, the New Orleans Vampire Bar.”

“Endless night of Eternal love in the heart of the French Quarter. Tears of Crimson, the New Orleans Vampire Bar.”

“The crimson leaf that blew past looked the twin of the one she'd picked up in the palace courtyard: a bloodied hand.”

“The crimson thread of God's love that weaves its way throughout the story of His mercy in our life, stands out against the backdrop of the darkness which invades any valley.”

“Vampires don't tan. Without UV protection, we get sunburned, heal, and just repeat the process over and over.” — Spade, First Drop of Crimson by Jeaniene Frost”

“As she felt his fangs against her neck, she was in another world. There was screaming. A woman was somewhere in agony. Everything was black, and the tormented scream was overwhelming, echoing through the emptiness. After the screaming subsided, there was panting, loud and steady, and it wasn’t as dark anymore. There was a room visible now, in a reddish light. A pale man with black hair hovered over a woman dressed in white. She lay on a bed, looking disheveled and sweaty. Her brown-black hair clung to her wet forehead and shoulders. She was covered in blood. The man sat next to her, and held her close to him. He stroked her hair as her chest heaved desperately. “I love you, my dearest Katerina,” he said, cradling her in his strong arms. “Soon, we’ll be together forever.” Everything faded to black once more, and the woman stopped breathing. All was silent and still.”

“Time seemed to stand still as she noticed three droplets of blood splattered on the Indian's cheek. Crimson red, she thought. Three crimson red droplets. The color of the rubescent calla lilies in her mother's garden. Her mother had explained the wine colored flower meant strength, and passionate courage. How fitting, Zee thought as shock of the reality around her began to set in.”

“His room was a sickly dual-tone of crimson and charcoal, like an Untitled Rothko, the colours bleeding into each other horribly and then rather serenely. The overall effect was overwhelmingly unapologetic but it grew on you like a wart on your nose you didn't realise it was a part of your identity until one day it simply was. His room was his identity. Fiercely bold, avant-garde but never monotonous. He was red, he was black, he was bored, and he was fire. At least to me he seemed like fire. A tornado of fire that burned all in its wake leaving only the wretched brightness of annihilation. His room was where he charmed and disarmed us. We were his playthings. Nobody plays with fire and leaves unscarred. The fire soon seeps into chard and soot. The colours of his soul, his aura, and probably his heart if he didn't stop smoking.”

“Let’s pretend it is a threat, because you need to understand that the other officers aren’t keeping me safe from you; they’re keeping you safe from me.”

“There were crimson roses on the bench”

“Just live as simply you are.Don't take a burden too much.”