“Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.”
“Whites were bright as fresh-fallen snow, yellow shone like gold, reds turned to flame, but the shadows were so black they looked like holes in the world.”
“Red, for the blood of angry men, black, for the night that will finally end.”
“Henry wondered not for the first time if her blood ran red or black.”
“Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.”
“Theology is never any help; it is searching in a dark cellar at midnight for a black cat that isn't there. Theologians can persuade themselves of anything.”