1 He was lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist.
2 I could almost hear the beating of my own heart; and the blood surging through my temples sounded like blows from a hammer.
3 Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders.
4 It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed them.
5 The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere passing of the time; he can flourish when that he can fatten on the blood of the living.
6 It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the working of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death as little rude as might be.
7 Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow, holding his hand pressed to his side; the blood still gushed through his fingers.
8 The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion.
9 When he saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent.
10 He looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around it.
11 Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated by the blood which smeared her lips and cheeks and chin; from her throat trickled a thin stream of blood; her eyes were mad with terror.
12 His eyes flamed red with devilish passion; the great nostrils of the white aquiline nose opened wide and quivered at the edge; and the white sharp teeth, behind the full lips of the blood-dripping mouth, champed together like those of a wild beast.
13 Here, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the desert.
14 This was startling, and, coming on the top of so many strange things, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near; but at the instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood was trickling over my chin.
15 He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first I thought that he too had come through in safety; but as he sprang beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the blood was spurting through his fingers.