“Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.”

“If I wasn't writing poems, I'd be washing my hands all the time.”

“Alone I walked on the ocean strand,
A pearly shell was in my hand;
I stooped, and wrote upon the sand
My name, the year, the day.
As onward from the sport I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast,
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And washed my lines away.”

“I had to listen when my friends told me to wash my eyes with blood
Everything at once was tangled in blood —
each face, each idol, red everywhere.
Blood swept over the sun, washing away its gold.
The moon erupted with blood, its silver extinguished.”

“It's one of the things that makes us different than they are, Harry. The blood on their hands does not make it right to bloody my own. My choices are measured against my own soul. Not against the stains on theirs.”

“Men wash their hands in blood, as best they can:
I find no fault in this just man.”

“My hands are clean, but not because I wasn't prepared to bloody them.”

“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head”

“Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.”

“After coming into contact with a religious man I always feel I must wash my hands.”