Hair Quotes - Page 34

• I am sorry " I murmured. "I know. I ought not to have threatened to beat you " he returned. He pressed a kiss to my hair. "I just cannot bear to be kept out of your life " I said into the dark. He gave a sigh. "Julia you daft woman. When you will you understand You are my life.

  Deanna Raybourn

  Sorry, Dark, Kissing

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• Not like this vision before us, who was shaking water out of his slightly overlong reddish-brown hair as he leaned over to lay down his board (revealing, as he did so, the fact that beneath his baggy swim trunks—so weighted down with water that they had sunk somewhat dangerously low on his hips—lurked what appeared to be an exceptionally well-formed gluteus maximus)

  Meg Cabot

  Water, Swim, Vision

  Meg Cabot (2008). “Tommy Sullivan is a Freak”, p.41, Pan Macmillan

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• When I am dead, and over me bright April Shakes out her rain drenched hair, Tho you should lean above me broken hearted, I shall not care. For I shall have peace. As leafey trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough. And I shall be more silent and cold hearted Than you are now

  Sara Teasdale

  Suicide, Rain, Suicidal

  Sara Teasdale (1915). “Rivers to the Sea”

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• Her hair is smoldering. Her face was smudged with soot. She had a cut on her arms, her dress was torn, and she was missing a boot. Beautiful.

  Rick Riordan

  Beautiful, Cutting, Missing

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• Roza, my self-control is ten times stronger than yours." I opened my eyes, shifting to look into his. I brushed his hair back and smiled, certain my heart would expand and expand until there was nothing left of me. "Oh yeah? That's not the impression I just got." "Wait until next time," he warned. "I'll do things that'll make you lose control within seconds.

  Richelle Mead

  Heart, Eye, Self

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• Go to sleep," he says softly. His hand brushes the lose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don't want him to stop and he doesn't. He's still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.

  Suzanne Collins

  Fall, Sleep, Kissing

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• He buried his hands in the rich velvet of her hair. “I thought I’d die for wanting you.

  Teresa Medeiros

  Hands, Velvet, Wanting You

  Teresa Medeiros (2011). “Heather and Velvet”, p.307, Fanfare

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• You don't have to say it out loud. I already know why you like me.' 'You do, huh?' 'Yep.' He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. 'So,' I said. 'Tell me' 'It's an animal attraction,' he said simply. 'Totally chemical.' 'Hmm,' I said. 'You could be right.' 'It doesn't matter, anyway, why you like me.' 'No?' 'Nope.' His hands were in my hair now, and I was leaning in, not able to totally make out his face, but his voice was clear, close to my ear. 'Just that you do.

  Sarah Dessen

  Animal, Voice, Hands

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• V?" Butch said. "Don't leave, okay?" "Never." V brushed Butch's hair back with a gesture so tender it was out of place coming from a male.

  J.R. Ward

  Males, Gestures, Said

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• My captivity with Dimitri. The way his mouth—so, so warm, despite his cold skin—had kissed mine. The feel of his fangs pressing into my neck and the sweet bliss that followed... He looked exactly the same too, with that chalky white pallor and red-ringed eyes that so conflicted with the soft, chin-length brown hair and otherwise gorgeous lines of his face. He even had a leather duster on.

  Richelle Mead

  Sweet, Eye, White

  Richelle Mead (2010). “Spirit Bound: A Vampire Academy Novel”, p.89, Penguin

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• She had been the quiet, rather plain girl, with a surprisingly sharp tongue if she was put out, lovely eyes and pretty hair and a way of looking very directly at one. Now he had to admit that she had become more important to him than anyone else in the world. The idea of a future without her wasn't to be borne. She had by some mysterious metamorphosis become more beautiful than anyone else he had ever encountered.

  Betty Neels

  Beautiful, Girl, Eye

  Betty Neels (2012). “Roses Have Thorns”, p.48, Harlequin

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• Sable hair bisected his pecs and arrowed down to the straight and unequivocal statement of his returned interest. Forcing my gaze to his face, I said, "I really don't think we have time for that." "You know that, and I know that, but HE doesn't believe it." "Believe it," I told HIM. J.X.'s mouth tugged into one of those heart-stopping smiles. "Maybe you should whisper in his ear.

  Josh Lanyon

  Believe, Heart, Thinking

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• It was as if he grew his hair long and smoked cigarettes because he liked to, not because he liked being seen to. This was dangerously subversive.

  Stephen Fry

  Long, Cigarette, Grew

  Stephen Fry (2003). “The Liar”, p.22, Soho Press

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• Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as golden as the sun's rays, and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her red shoes and her fiddle, but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music.

  Gaston Leroux

  Mother, Sleep, Eye

  Gaston Leroux (2016). “The Phantom of the Opera & The Mystery of the Yellow Room (Mystery Classics): The Ultimate Gothic Romance Mystery and One of the First Locked-Room Crime Mysteries”, p.42, e-artnow

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• It wasn't just that Lucy wanted to help him. She wasn't as selfless as that. She was madly attracted to him. She was attracted to all of the normal things and the weird things, too, like the back of his neck and his thumbs on the edge of his desk and the way his hair stuck out on one side like a little wing over his ear. She caught his smell once, and it made her dizzy. She couldn't fall asleep that night.

  Ann Brashares

  Fall, Night, Wings

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• Curse him for being all tight muscle, with ivory skin and a mouth as soft as rose petals. Curse him for having hair as fair as the sun, and eyes as black as night. Curse him for having the grace of a cat and deft, cool hands. And now I am having the same argument on paper that I have in my own head on too many nights. I know my choice is sensible, but it isn't my common sense I think with, those times Rosto's stolen a kiss from me.

  Tamora Pierce

  Cat, Eye, Kissing

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• [Kane to Rose] I'll never forget the way you looked walking toward me. I never thought that I'd have a woman like you in my life. It's all there etched in my brain. And now, the way the light pours over our hair, the way all that silk shines, so black it's nearly blue. The world disappears when I'm holding you.

  Christine Feehan

  Light, Blue, Rose

  Christine Feehan (2010). “Ruthless Game”, p.286, Penguin

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• Stridey-Man: " Want 2 vaca w/me?" William: "Romantic getaway for 2? UR not my type" Stridey-Man: "I'm everyone's type. So U in or out? 'Cause I'm thinking about hooking up w/P, wherever he is. U'd just B extra baggage." William: "In" Stridey: "Knew you couldn't resist me. B ready in 5." William: "Right on. Make it 10. I want 2 style my hair for U. U know, just how U like it." Stridey: "Now U only have 8 minutes 2 do UR hair.

  Gena Showalter

  Men, Thinking, Style

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• I nudged myself closer to the ledge and closed my eyes and thought 'Oh what a life this is, why do we have to be born in the first place, and only so we can have our poor gentle flesh laid out to such impossible horrors as huge mountains and rock and empty space,' and with horror I remembered the famous Zen saying, 'When you get to the top of a mountain, keep climbing.' The saying made my hair stand on end; it had been such cute poetry sitting on Alvah's straw mats.

  Jack Kerouac

  Cute, Eye, Rocks

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• New Rule: Stop asking Miss USA contestants if they believe in evolution. It’s not their field. It’s like asking Stephen Hawking if he believes in hair scrunchies. Here’s what they know about: spray tans, fake boobs and baton twirling. Here’s what they don’t know about: everything else. If I cared about the uninformed opinions of some ditsy beauty queen, I’d join the Tea Party.

  Bill Maher

  Queens, Party, Believe

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• I sat up in bed. My T-shirt was soaking wet. My pillow was wet. My hair was wet. And my room was sticky and humid.

  Kami Garcia

  Bed, Rooms, T Shirt

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• Then, as one hand tightened on me and his other ran gently over my hair, I noticed something. He didn't smell right.

  Richelle Mead

  Hands, Smell, Ran

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• Harvey wasn't interested in the clothes, it was the masks that mesmerized him. They were like snowflakes: no two alike. Some were made of wood and of plastic; some of straw and cloth and papier-mâché. Some were as bright as parrots, others as pale as parchment. Some were so grotesque he was certain they'd been carved by crazy people; others so perfect they looked like the death masks of angels. There were masks of clowns and foxes, masks like skulls decorated with real teeth, and one with carved flames instead of hair.

  Clive Barker

  Crazy, Real, Angel

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• Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn’t a mask, it couldn’t be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn’t a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher’s knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream. And her head.

  Robert Bloch

  Crazy, Eye, Cutting

  Robert Bloch (2010). “Psycho: A Novel”, p.24, The Overlook Press

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• He leaned down and whispered to me: No matter how thin you get, no matter how short you cut your hair, it's still going to be you underneath. And he let go of my arm and walked back down the hall.

  Marya Hornbacher

  Letting Go, Cutting, Arms

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