Quotes About Hair

She was sitting on her own long blonde hair, which Susannah had noted came to just under her rear, cupping it in a provocative way.

Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.

Your hair wants cutting," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. "You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some severity; "it's very rude.

noticed, had powdered hair that curled all

It's not something I can control, damn it. Every man I know wakes up with a hard-on." "Maybe so, but they do not – repeat, do not - rub it on me." " 'Every man I know' wasn't rubbing it on you! It was just me!" "And it was just your hair that I pulled, wasn't it?" she asked sweetly.

In Italy, I had an Afro, and a lot of the kids came up and felt my hair. It really was funny. I wish I had understood Italian.

Nowadays, they have more trouble packing hair dryers than baseball equipment.

There is no normality in life. Having two houses means that we can get out of each other's hair - which, let's face it, we've both got a lot of.

I kept thinking I would be spending my life up to my elbows in shampoo.

I'm learning with the older that I get that some feelings are just universal and that I'm not the only one who hates their hair or their life at times.

I don't think I could live without hair, makeup and styling, let alone be the performer I am. I am a glamour girl through and through. I believe in the glamorous life and I live one.

Well, maybe he was Jesus but his hair could have used a comb.

Feminists in Greenwich Village had begun bobbing their hair in 1912. In 1915, it was still radical. "The idea, it seems, came from Russia," the New York Times reported. "The intellectual women of that country were revolutionaries. For convenience in disguising themselves when the police trailed them, they cropped their hair."2 Holloway was something of a revolutionary, too.

None of us can foresee the consequences of such a step." Ponce de Leon ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place. "Though after centuries of watching mankind, I sometimes suspect intelligence is overrated.

Hair that has been colored is susceptible to the sun. [...] Sun isn't kind to the skin either, even though a tan is so attractive. After a woman reaches thirty she should get her tan out of a bottle - with a good base - and protect her skin and hair from the direct rays of the summer sun.

Sometimes just to look at Miranda's calm oval face and straight corn-yellow hair gave her a sharp little stab of pleasure.

This new guy had shoulder-length, darkish hair and a face so perfectly handsome he could've been a movie star.

And age was just a trait, like the color of your hair, or the amount of freckles on your skin.

You hungry?" asked Silver, who was thus nicknamed because his hair had turned old when he was but twenty-five.

Like thick and tangled hair Of Magdalenes half-crazed.

She'd piled her hair high, leaving silky tendrils to tease bare shoulders. How he longed to festoon that slender neck with cascades of rubies. Rubies, diamonds, pearls, emeralds. Never sapphires. Not even the finest sapphires could rival the beauty of her eyes. He had no jewels to offer, only his longing, loving heart.

She was bewitching. Even now when she conceded little more than she had when he'd kissed her last night. She quivered under his hands. He still wasn't sure whether she was excited or frightened. He'd read both curiosity and dread in her pansy eyes. Her thick tortoiseshell hair tickled his fingers. After her wild ride, she looked enchantingly disheveled. It made him contemplate other wild rides he'd like to take with her.

Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight.

He just hoped Meg leading the way didn't mean all the blood prophets would do strange things to their hair.