Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?
It is foolish to pluck out one's hair for sorrow, as if grief could be assuaged by baldness.
I don't have much choice these days in how I have my hair.
I have no detectable hair style.
Hopes are like hair ornaments. Girls want to wear too many of them. When they become old women they look silly wearing even one.
My hair is so unmanageable.
Hair is vitally personal to children. They weep vigorously when it is cut for the first time; no matter how it grows, bushy, straight or curly, they feel they are being shorn of a part of their personality.
The person who doesn't scatter the morning dew will not comb gray hairs.
Surely the fact that a uniformed police officer is wearing his hair below his collar will make him no less identifiable as a policeman.
Dear, dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms?
For six months I'd do movies and make it all about me. Then the other six months, it's not about me and it doesn't matter what my hair looks like or what anything looks like.
Like all New York hotel lady cashiers she had red hair and had been disappointed in her first husband.
I guess if I wrote a book one day, it would be about hair
I love my red hair. It makes me spunkier.
When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
I wasn't making it with the violin because I was playing all of the 'long hair' stuff.
No nose hair. Ever. You'd be surprised at all the little twigs sticking out. I just can't get it. How can you see that and not just want to hack it off?
We're teaching our kids that attributes as vague and relatively meaningless as a toothy smile or a fine head of hair make a fine statement about a person.
I used to get a haircut every Saturday so I would never miss any of the comic books. I had practically no hair when I was a kid!
In mainstream romantic comedies, I'm usually tearing my hair out. It's just a devastatingly difficult genre for me.
Men don't get smarter when they grow older. They just lose their hair.
I also said, men are like curling irons, they never get out of your hair. And they are like government bonds, they take so long to mature.
When you see fair hair Be pitiful.
This head has risen above its hair in a moment of abandon known only to men who have drawn their feet out of their boots to walk awhile in the corridors of the mind.
It seems no more than right that men should seize time by the forelock, for the rude old fellow, sooner or later, pulls all their hair out.
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