Hair Quotes - Page 36

• Red hair is my life long sorrow.

  Lucy Maud Montgomery

  Long, Sorrow, Red

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• You are old Father William,' the young man said, 'and your hair has become very white; and yet you incessantly stand on your head-do you think, at your age, it is right?

  Lewis Carroll

  Father, Thinking, Men

  Alice's Adventures inWonderland ch. 5 (1865)

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• I feel something very small growing inside me as I look at her, and I realize in one absolutely clear moment that I don't like her at all. 'You know what?' I say. 'Forget it. I'll do the list by myself.' She stands up, swings her stupid hair about and tries to look offended. It's a trick that works with guys, but it makes no difference to the way I feel about her.

  Jenny Downham

  Stupid, Swings, Differences

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• During the First World War, I told her, Hitler had been a runner, delivering messages between the German trenches, and he was disgusted by seeing his fellow soldiers visit French brothels. To keep the Aryan bloodlines pure,and prevent the spread of venereal disease, he commissioned an inflatable doll that Nazi troops could take into battle. Hitler himself designed the dolls to have blond hair and large breasts. The Allied firebombing of Dresden destroyed the factory before the dolls could ever go into wide distribution.

  Chuck Palahniuk

  War, Soldier, Battle

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• People talk about the beauty of the spring, but I can't see it. The trees are brown and bare, slimy with rain. Some are crawling with new purple hairs. And the buds are bulging like tumorous acne, and I can tell that something wet, and soft, and cold, and misshapen is about to be born. And I am turning into a vampire.

  Matthew Tobin Anderson

  Spring, Rain, Purple

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• it may not always be so; and i say that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart, as mine in time not far away; if on another's face your sweet hair lay in such a silence as i know,or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, stand helplessly before the spirit at bay; if this should be, i say if this should be- you of my heart, send me a little word; that i may go unto him, and take his hands, saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

  e. e. cummings

  Sweet, Strong, Heart

  e. e. cummings (2014). “100 Selected Poems”, p.8, Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

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• He had long nostril hairs, powerfully intimidating, like an unscheduled nightmare.

  Charles Bukowski

  Long, Nightmare, Intimidating

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• Isabella with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.

  Cassandra Clare

  Knives, Bridges, Towers

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (3 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass”, p.547, Simon and Schuster

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• Dark hair fell in a sweep over his forehead. He looked like a man who would write vers libre, as indeed he did.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  Writing, Dark, Men

  P. G. Wodehouse (2009). “Three Men and a Maid: Easyread Comfort Edition”, p.27, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• For several long moments we remained locked together, and I think I covered her hair with small sacred kisses, her perfume crucifying me with memories.

  Anne Rice

  Memories, Kissing, Thinking

  Anne Rice (2000). “Merrick: a novel”, Knopf Canada

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• "Rabbit's clever," said Pooh thoughtfully. "Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit's clever." "And he has Brain." "Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit has Brain." There was a long silence. "I suppose," said Pooh, "that that's why he never understands anything."

  Benjamin Hoff

  Funny, Clever, Humor

  "The Tao of Pooh". Book by Benjamin Hoff, 1982.

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• Anyone who knew Violet well could tell she was thinking hard, because her long hair was tied up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes. Violet had a real knack for inventing and building strange devices, so her brain was often filled with images of pulleys, levers, and gears, and she never wanted to be distracted by something as trivial as her hair.

  Daniel Handler

  Real, Eye, Thinking

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• He stood up straight and looked the world squarely in the fields and hills. To add weight to his words he stuck the rabbit bone in his hair. He spread his arm out wide. "I will go mad!" he annouced.

  Douglas Adams

  Mad, Arms, Fields

  Douglas Adams (2012). “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: The Trilogy of Five”, p.326, Pan Macmillan

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• She is a woman of honour and smartness whose wild leaves out luck, always taking risks, and there is something in her brow now, that only she can recognize in a mirror. Ideal and idealistic in that shiny dark hair! People fall in love with her. She is a woman I don’t know well enough to hold in my wing, if writers have wings, to harbour for the rest of my life.

  Michael Ondaatje

  Falling In Love, Dark, Wings

  FaceBook post by Michael Ondaatje from Mar 08, 2015

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• The girls I dream of are the gentle ones, wistful by high windows or singing sweet old songs at a piano, long hair drifting, tender as apple blossom. But a girl who goes into battle beside you and keeps your back is a different thing, a thing to make you shiver. Think of the first time you slept with someone, or the first time you fell in love: that blinding explosion that left you cracking to the fingertips with electricity, initiated and transformed. I tell you that was nothing, nothing at all, beside the power of putting your lives, simply and daily, into each other's hands.

  Tana French

  Girl, Dream, Song

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• People left a lot of things behind when they went in the water. Their clothes, their stuff, their makeup, their fixed-up hair, their voices, their hearing, their sight—at least as the normally experienced them.

  Ann Brashares

  Makeup, Sight, Voice

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• I'm an ugly girl, My face makes you hurl, Sad I have it, I should bag it. Acne everywhere, Unwanted facial hair. I'm a relation to Frankenstein's creation.

  Al Yankovic

  Girl, Bags, Acne

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• Over your breasts of motionless current, over your legs of firmness and water, over the permanence and the pride of your naked hair I want to be, my love, now that the tears are thrown into the raucous baskets where they accumulate, I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable of mangled silver, alone with a tip of your breast of snow.

  Pablo Neruda

  Pride, Snow, Water

  Pablo Neruda (1990). “Selected Poems”, p.127, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• I didn't come in here to argue with a woman with big hair

  Jayne Ann Krentz

  Arguing, Bigs, Big Hair

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• Are you learning me by heart, little Sara?" he said, stroking her hair. "No," she answered. "I know you by heart. You are inside my heart.

  Frances Hodgson Burnett

  Heart, Littles, Said

  Frances Hodgson Burnett (2015). “A Little Princess”, p.10, Booklassic

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• I will be thin and pure like a glass cup. Empty. Pure as light. Music. I move my hands over my body - my shoulders, my collarbone, my rib cage, my hip bones like part of an animal skull, my small thighs. In the mirror my face is pale and my eyes look bruised. My hair is pale and thin and the light comes through. I could be a lot younger than seventeen. I could be a child still, untouched.

  Francesca Lia Block

  Children, Moving, Eye

  Francesca Lia Block (2009). “The Hanged Man”, p.14, Harper Collins

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• My family suffered. My hair turned up in every corner, every drawer, every meal. Even in the rice puddings Tessie made, covering each little bowl with wax paper before putting it away in the fridge--even into these prophylactically secure desserts my hair found its way! Jet black hairs wound themselves around bars of soap. They lay pressed like flower stems between the pages of books. They turned up in eyeglass cases, birthday cards, once--I swear--inside an egg Tessie had just cracked. The next-door neighbor's cat coughed up a hairball one day and the hair was not the cat's.

  Jeffrey Eugenides

  Flower, Book, Cat

  Jeffrey Eugenides (2003). “Middlesex”, p.306, A&C Black

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• Haven, don't ask me to define the boundaries of normal. You know how I was raised. My father once struck strands of his own pubic hair onto a painting and sold it for a million dollars.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Father, Dollars, Normal

  Lisa Kleypas (2015). “The Travis Family Series, Books 1-3: Blue-Eyed Devil, Smooth Taking Stranger and Sugar Daddy”, p.68, St. Martin's Press

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• Todd? Are you still there?" "Yeah. I'm just trying to think of a good reason to continue our friendship." I grinned. "Jealousy is so unattractive Todd." "It would help if you could tell me one thing that's wrong. One flaw. Bad breath? Warts? Some condition that requires anti fungal spray?" "Would chest hair be a flaw?" "Oh, yeah." Todd sounded relieved." I can't stand a chest rug. You can't see the chest cut.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Cutting, Thinking, Trying

  Lisa Kleypas (2010). “Blue-Eyed Devil: Number 2 in series”, p.127, Hachette UK

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• My English teacher has no face. She has uncombed stringy hair that droops on her shoulders. The hair is black from her part to her ears and then neon orange to the frizzy ends. I can't decide if she had pissed off her hairdresser or is morphing into a monarch butterfly. I call her Hairwoman.

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  Teacher, Butterfly, Orange

  Laurie Halse Anderson (2011). “Speak”, p.6, Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

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