Blood is a juice of very special kind. 192 GOETHE:  Faust (Swanwick’s Trans.), Line 1386.

=Bloom.=

O’er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. 193 GRAY:  Prog. of Poesy, Pt. i., St. 1, Line 3.

=Blossoms.=

Who in life’s battle firm doth stand
Shall bear hope’s tender blossoms
    Into the silent land.
194
J.G.  VON SALIS:  The Silent Land.

=Bluntness.=

I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men’s blood:  I only speak right on. 195 SHAKS.:  Jul.  Caesar, Act iii., Sc. 2.

=Blushing.=

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive,
Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. 
The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow;
They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats,
And flare up boldly, wings and all. 
What then? 
Who’s sorry for a gnat ... or girl?
196
MRS. BROWNING:  Aurora Leigh, Bk. ii., Line 732.

=Boasting.=

Here’s a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
As maids of thirteen do of puppy dogs.
197
SHAKS.:  King John, Act ii., Sc. 2.

=Boat.=

Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat;
  Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher’s chorus-note
  Soft moves the dipping oar.
198
BAILLIE:  Oh Swiftly Glides the Bonnie Boat.

=Boldness.=

In conversation boldness now bears sway,
But know, that nothing can so foolish be
As empty boldness.
199
HERBERT:  Temple, Church Porch, St. 34.

=Bond.=

I’ll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak; I’ll have my bond; and therefore speak no more. 200 SHAKS.:  M. of Venice, Act iii., Sc. 3.

=Bones.=

Cursed be he that moves my bones. 201 SHAKS.:  Shakespeare’s Epitaph.

Rattle his bones over the stones! 
He’s only a pauper, whom nobody owns!
202
THOMAS NOEL:  The Pauper’s Ride.

=Books.=

A book!  O rare one! 
Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers.
203
SHAKS.:  Cymbeline, Act v., Sc. 4.

That place that does contain
My books, the best companions, is to me
A glorious court, where hourly I converse
With the old sages and philosophers;
And sometimes, for variety, I confer
With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels.
204
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER:  The Elder Brother, Act i., Sc. 2.

Books cannot always please, however good;
Minds are not ever craving for their food.
205
CRABBE:  The Borough, Letter xxiv.

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good; Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow. 206 WORDSWORTH:  Personal Talk.