Quotes About Beard

In de tijd dat ik veronderstelde een revolutionair te zijn liet ik mijn baard groeien. De revolutie kwam echter niet. Ik had te weinig idealen.

The tin-sheep and wooden-melon proletariat produced their papers and named their places of work. The madman with the white beard plucked at the sleeve of the policemen, opened up his folded handkerchief, and said: professor of philosophy.

Perhaps I'll grow my beard, he thinks. It would save time. Only then, Hans would insist on committing another portrait against me.

What's Hemingway?" Astor said. I watched the crowd of look-alikes milling around on the sidewalk, jostling each other and slurping beer. "A man who grew a beard and drank a lot," I said.

When I got to Hollywood, at first I couldn't get a lot of jobs. So I grew a beard and look like a really bad Arab, and I started to get a lot of work because that's what they want.

The image we have of bin Laden in his final years in Abbottabad is of an aging man with a graying beard watching old footage of himself; just another suburban dad flipping though the channels with his remote.

Van was a type-two sysadmin, over six feet tall, long ponytail, bobbing Adam's apple. Over his toast-rack chest, his tee said CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON and featured a row of polyhedral RPG dice. Felix was a type-one admin, with an extra seventy or eighty pounds all around the middle, and a neat but full beard that he wore over his extra chins. His tee said HELLO CTHULHU and featured a cute, mouthless, Hello Kitty–style Cthulhu.

On the morning I was scheduled to die, a large barefoot man with a bushy red beard waddled past my house.

This Santa's beard was real, and so was his hair. He wasn't fucking around.

What's the trick to remembering that a sandwich is masculine? What qualities does it share with anyone in possession of a penis? I'll tell myself that a sandwich is masculine because if left alone for a week or two, it will eventually grow a beard.

The only bright spot in the entire evening was the presence of Kevin Tubby Matchwell, the eleven-year-old porker who tackled the role of Santa with a beguiling authenticity. The false beard tended to muffle his speech, but they could hear his chafing thighs all the way to the North Pole.

Maybe you should grow a Vandyke." I didn't say that I'd rather have herpes, as the doctor had a Vandyke himself. It looked like he'd taken a big gulp from a mugful of hair.

A Better Beard that Yours. 'All true devotees wear a beard,' said the Imam to his audience. 'Show me a thick and lustrous beard and I'll show you a true believer!' 'My goat has a beard far bushier and longer than yours,' replied Nasrudin. 'Does that mean he is a better Muslim than you?

The bathroom door had a mirror on the outside of it, and I saw his face in that as he went by. It was evil, repulsive; you could tell by his face that his reason was slowly crumbling. He had his mouth open as if he was panting for air. The black beard, short as it was, made him look a little bit like an ape standing on its hind legs. He kept going back and forth, carrying clothes out of the closet.

By the power of Steven Wright's Beard!

I reached up and touched his face, feeling the appealingly masculine stubble there.

All the men in my family were bearded, and most of the women.

You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime.

I hate being clean-shaven. My daughter gets very upset if I shave and says, 'Bring back the spikes, Dad.'

What of his beard? Are you not of Homer's opinion, who says Youth is most charming when the beard first appears?

He leaned close, rubbing his bearded cheek against my ear. 'And how about a sweet kiss, now, for the brave lads of the clan MacKenzie? Tulach Ard!' Erin go bragh,' I said rudely, and pushed with all my strength.

Man is born to sorrow and whiskers. One of the plagues of Adam.

John himself seemed to be considering the matter, lips pursed. He had a heavy beard, I saw; the blond stubble softened his features and at the same time gave me an odd feeling of strangeness—I had so seldom seen him less than perfectly shaved and groomed. "No. There is Ã¢â'¬Â¦ no sense of possession in it," he said finally.

Wendell's beard is stylish. Scruffy. Unkempt. Rakish. He looks . . . attractive? I remember my earlier denial of any romantic transference with him. And I'd been truthful—as far as I was aware. But why was I so profoundly uncomfortable right now? Had my unconscious been having a passionate affair with Wendell behind my back?