Quotes About Red hair

Among the genetic gifts the Neanderthals passed on to us, it seems, is red hair, bless them.

In person he was rather tall and his figure was considered good. Some people thought him handsome, but this was not by any means the universal opinion. His face had two faults: a long nose and an ironic expression. It is also true that his hair had a reddish tinge and, as everybody knows, no one with red hair can ever truly be said to be handsome.

It is also true that his hair had a reddish tinge and, as everybody knows, no one with red hair can ever truly be said to be handsome. At

Good morning, Miss Tramell," he replied, smiling. He was an older gentleman, with a liberal sprinkling of white in his red hair. I liked him for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he'd been driving Gideon around since grade school and genuinely cared for him.

Blue eyes and red hair is the rarest combo on Earth, which makes me a statistical freak of nature. My pale skin also makes the spray of freckles across my cheeks and nose look more prominent, which I hate.

That was close!" Frank gasped. The car had been traveling at such high speed that the boys had been unable to get the license number or a glimpse of the driver's features. But they had noted that he was hatless and had a shock of red hair.

Louis-Cesare's anger suddenly filled the small room like water, and in a heartbeat his eyes went from silver tinged to as solid as two antique coins. I sat frozen, awash in a sea of power. I was beginning to understand why Mircea had wanted him along, only Daddy had failed to mention anything about the hair-trigger temper. I guess he assumed the red hair would clue me in.

With the red hair, you get the white skin; it's a package deal. The cons are that you never look particularly attractive on the beach. The pros are in a softly lit room, you look pretty.

I was bullied at school for my red hair; today I still come out fighting hard. I give as good as I get. In business, it's about finding solutions, not being rolled over.

Her eye was caught by a pile of red hair on the seat next to her. She had forgotten about the stupid little girl. She could not remember what her plans had been. What was she supposed to do with this burden?

Barabas always managed to project an air of urbane, civilized polish that came with a sharp edge. Tall, lean, and pale, he had fire-bright red hair that stuck out from his head like a forest of aggressive spikes. If he ever frosted his hair blue, he'd look like a gas burner.

Mr Phipps seemed to think criminality was passed down through the generations like a stutter, or a squint, or in my case red hair.

She has dyed red hair, but from the roots I imagine it's naturally dark. Her skin is pale and her eyes are a light hazel. She's pretty in a really emo sort of way.

When I was younger, I definitely did face anti-ginger prejudice. As a child, all teasing hurts, whether it's because you're fat or a different race or have red hair. I had enough comments from a couple of people to make it a sore point.

R]ed hair is slow to lay back once it's got its dandruff up, and her bitchy mood required further opportunity to express itself.

Her hair was as straight and red as ironed ketchup. Her astonishingly round breast jiggled ever so slightly, like balls balanced on the noses of Valium eating seals.

His reddish hair is rumpled, but in a deliberate I'm-in-a-boy-band way.

I was obsessed with the Canadian novel 'Anne of Green Gables'. I decided I was Anne of Green Gables. There was something that spoke to me about her, and I wanted to have her beautiful red hair.

And stop with that cute little grin you always get in your mind. You think you can get around me with it, but you can't." He tugged at her arm, his black eyes restless, searching the forest around them. He could still feel the dark malevolence through Shea. "I can always get around you, little red hair," he answered tenderly. "You are not capable of holding a grudge.

I can always get around you, little red hair," he answered tenderly. "You are not capable of holding a grudge." The feeling of hatred was oppressive. Jacques' gentle teasing was comforting, and she was oddly grateful for it. She tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm. "Don't count on my good nature, Jacques. You do remember what they say about people with red hair.

Into the middle of that cauldron of intense, violent emotion suddenly came something soft and gentle. A wisp of memory. Courage. Beauty. A woman. Not any woman, but his woman, his lifemate. All red hair and fire. She walked like an angel where men feared to tread, where even his own kind would fear to venture.

According to the wire, you are resting well and are being taken care of by a nurse. I hope she is beautiful and that she has red hair. I don't know why, but whenever I dream of a nurse she always has red hair. Red hair makes a man want to recover his health quickly, so that he can get on his feet and get the nurse off hers." - Groucho Marx, letter to his son

Barbara Shanahan, sometimes known as Battering Ram Shanahan. She was over six feet tall and had freckles and wore her light red hair cut short and wore a blue suit with white hose. She worked hard and was a good prosecutor, and I had always wanted to like her. But she seldom smiled and she went about her job with the abrasiveness of a carpenter building coffins with a nail gun.

The center of activity on Pierce Street was Connie's Superette, a little market housed on the bottom floor of a large, asbestos-shingled apartment building. Connie, a fat woman with Lucille Ball red hair, sat behind the counter on a webbed porch chair. She kept a whirring electric fan trained on herself and was careful not to risk breaking her two-inch fingernails as she grudgingly rang up people's stuff.