Hair Quotes - Page 39

• It's like one of those scenes from a feel-good Hollywood movie. Where everybody is happy and nobody's hair fizzes in the wind. Where it doesn't rain, your shoes stay comfortable all day, and everybody's jokes are funny.

  Randa Abdel-Fattah

  Rain, Wind, Shoes

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• The urge at that moment to reach across and touch Willow--to link his fingers through hers as she rested her hand on her thigh, or stroke her bright hair back from her temple--was almost overpowering. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yep, definitely time for a coffee break," he said, closing his eyes. "You see right through me.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Coffee, Eye, Hands

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• Alex gazed at her. Her mouth was slightly open; she ran her fingernail against her lower teeth as she thought. She'd knotted her hair at the nape of her neck again, and a strand had slipped loose onto her shoulder, gleaming in the lantern light. Suddenly all of his objections seemed meaningless. Don't, he thought. You'll regret it. He didn't care anymore. Slowly, unable to stop himself, he reached out and cupped his hand around her foot.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Regret, Feet, Light

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• Touching his hair, she leaned hesitantly forward, and he folded his arms around her, sinking into sensation again as they kissed--the slight weight of her on his lap, the smell of her. He glided his hands up the warm dip of her spine, felt her shiver and press closer. He could never get enough of this. Never.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Hands, Smell, Touching

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• Willow nestled against him. He smoothed her long hair down the back of her T-shirt, feeling its softness. In a few moments she fell asleep again, her breathing warm and regular against his chest. Alex kissed her head, his arms tightening around her. As he drifted back to sleep himself, he saw a brief flash of the thousands of angels streaming in, but right then it seemed distant, almost unimportant. The only thing that mattered was that he was lying in a bed holding Willow, their bare legs entwined. It was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Lying, Angel, Sleep

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• A hysterical young woman with flowing brown hair is also called from 4, but she's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage.

  Suzanne Collins

  Years, Volunteer, Needs

  Suzanne Collins (2011). “The Hunger Games: Catching Fire”, p.150, Scholastic

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• Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?

  Gail Carriger

  Long, Mustache, Age

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• Nineteen eighty is almost here, thank God. the hippies are getting old, they blew their brains on acid and now they're begging on street corners all over San Francisco. Their hair is tangled and their bare feet are thick and gray as shoes. We're sick of them.

  Jennifer Egan

  Hippie, Shoes, Feet

  Jennifer Egan (2010). “A Visit from the Goon Squad”, p.31, Anchor

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• some mornings... I sit at the kitchen table shaking salt into the hairs on my arm, and a feeling shoves up in me: it's finished. Everything went past without me.

  Jennifer Egan

  Morning, Past, Feelings

  Jennifer Egan (2010). “A Visit from the Goon Squad”, p.65, Anchor

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• She was a vision in a white gown her dark hair forming a hazy halo around her rosy heart-shaped face. Her long lashes fluttered to touch her cheeks and then her eyes opened fully in his direction. Her small round mouth flexed in an immediate and knowing smile. That's the girl I'm going to marry Henry thought.

  Anna Godbersen

  Girl, Eye, Heart

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• What was it about that short creature with her wild hair and spurious air of purity and why would anyone much less two men love her and to such disastrous ends.

  Anna Godbersen

  Men, Two, Purity

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• 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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• ...Tunstell was not what one could describe as call subtle. His flaming red hair bobbed up with each pointed and articulated footstep as though he were some cloaked Gothic villain creeping across a stage.

  Gail Carriger

  Red, Gothic, Villain

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• I intend to stay on her like hair on soap.

  Kathryn Stockett

  Soap

  Kathryn Stockett (2009). “The Help”, p.147, Penguin

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• I looked at you... and saw your goodness, your hope, and your faith. Those are what make you beautiful. So, so beautiful. So it was't my hair?

  Richelle Mead

  Beautiful, Saws, Goodness

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• She was plump, with dyed red hair and a face so caked with cosmetics that the floor of the Amazon jungle probably saw more natural light.

  John Connolly

  Light, Amazon, Cosmetics

  John Connolly (2015). “Every Dead Thing: A Charlie Parker Thriller”, p.70, Simon and Schuster

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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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• Kaia darling, Willaim said, nearly leaping over a stand of beef jerky in his haste to reach her. Are you here to fight the strippers who just enjoyed hours of my company? Hardly, she said, tossing her glorious mane of hair over her shoulder with a single flip of her wrist. I'm here to thank them for keeping you occupied. Please tell me they're still with you.

  Gena Showalter

  Fighting, Beef Jerky, Haste

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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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• Look, I asked you here for a reason. Much as I hate to admit it, vampire, we have something in common. " "Totally awesome hair?" Simon suggested, but his heart wasn't really in it either. Something about the look on Jace's face was making him increasingly uneasy. Simon was caught off guard. "Clary?" "Clary, " Jace said again. "You know: short, redheaded, bad temper.

  Cassandra Clare

  Hate, Heart, Vampire

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (3 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass”, p.819, Simon and Schuster

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• Mary bring out your umbrella - The sun shines down on this fine, fine day But the ashes raining down forever Are going to turn your hair to gray. Mary keep your oars a-steady Sail away on the rising flood Keep your candle at the ready Red tides can't be told from blood. - "Miss Mary" (a common child's clapping game, dating from the time of the blitz), from Pattycake and Beyond: A History of Play

  Lauren Oliver

  Children, Rain, Games

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• In that moment, Lux felt complete for the first time. He hadn’t even realized anything was missing until he met her, but now, with her curled up in his arms, her hair tickling against his chin, he couldn’t imagine existing without her - Virtue - A Fairy Tale

  Amanda Hocking

  Missing, Firsts, Tickling

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• He raked his fingers through his hair. "She doesn't need me." Ralston smirked. "You are laboring under that mistaken impression that it is their job to need us. In my experience it is almost always the other way around.

  Sarah MacLean

  Jobs, Needs, Way

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• I mean, seriously, what lady of taste could resist a shiny green head of hair like mine?

  Darren Shan

  Mean, Green, Taste

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• I sat up in bed. "What did he say?" Tyson groaned, still half asleep. He was lying facedown on the couch, his feet so far over the edge they were in the bathroom. "The happy man said...bowling practice?" I hoped he was right, but then there was an urgent knock on the suite's interior door. Annabeth stuck her head in--her blonde hair in a rat's nest. "DISEMBOWLING practice?

  Rick Riordan

  Lying, Men, Feet

  Rick Riordan (2007). “The Sea of Monsters”, Disney-Hyperion

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