Hair Quotes - Page 110

More of that hair-raising energy rolled out of Vlad, until I was rubbing my arms to chase the tingling sensations away. Was this what Marty meant when he told me vampires could measure each others’ strength by feeling their auras? If so, then Vlad’s had Badass: Do Not Engage written all over it.

Do you know what you’ve done?” I asked in a bland tone. Annette gave me an inquiring look. “You’ve gotten on my last nerve.” The table went crashing into her before she could blink, and then my fist found a home in her perfectly arranged hair.

Bones leaned back, studying me. I felt so self-conscious. If only I had a shield of makeup, some perfectly arranged hair... and oh yeah. Some panties.

They believed that if a mouse found your hair clippings and built a nest with them you got a headache. If the nest was big enough, you might go mad.

I had an idea for a story about a young woman who was living with people who were different, not just superficially different - such as hair colour, or eye colour, or skin colour - but different in some significant way.

Age whitens hairs, but not sin.

All my spells smell like burnt hair lately.

It seems like you can't actually have really bad hair or be bald and run for President of the United States.

The Boston Globe is reporting that Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry used to date actress Morgan Fairchild but it didn't work out. Apparently she couldn't handle dating someone with bigger hair then she had.

Real movement in the Kerry campaign now. His poll numbers are moving, donations are moving, endorsements are moving. The only thing not moving is his hair.

When introducing a character, you're usually better off sticking with broad strokes. The important thing at that point is not what color hair someone has or how tall they are, but rather, what kind of person they are.

I'm into the true meaning of Christmas - Faith, Family, and Facial hair.

If you play men, in a way it's easier. You can have a voicebox, you can have false hair, mustaches, wigs, you can have all kinds of stuff. But when you're playing women playing men, you only really have yourself to work with, plus tiny little extras.

The idea was to have a basin inverted on his head and his hair cut to the shape of it. Skill and money were not needed. Then the idea grew that it was more convenient to leave the basin on his head. Stray thoughts were trimmed along with stray hair; brain-vines, tentacles of thought, were not encouraged to wander. Then, in the interests of human economy, the head of adaptable man became a basin of uniform shape—a basin, a crash helmet. Safe at last; no more thought-cuts.

When I hear a writer say that they ‘put in a call,’ I want to pull my hair out.

Death like a lover, caressing him, promising him peace, running its fingers through his hair, its tongue in his ear. She put her own two fingers in her mouth. Im so sorry. And pulled the trigger

The night crackled ... Everything had turned to static electricity in the heat. I combed my hair to watch the sparks fly from the ends.

I got out of the tub and had to squelch a scream when I saw my reflection in the vanity mirror. My hair looked like it had taken 2000 volts and been spray starched

Not keep a journal! How are your absent cousins to understand the tenor of your life in Bath without one? How are the civilities and compliments of every day to be related as they ought to be, unless noted down every evening in a journal? How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal?

He murmers into my hair, "Forget what I said earlier, let's stick with this, I might not survive anything more." I laugh. Then he jumps up, finds my wrists, and pins them over my head. "Yeah, right. Totally joking, I want to do everything with you, whenever you're ready, I'm the one, promise?" He's above me, batting and grinning like a total hooplehead. "I promise," I say. "Good. Glad that's decided." He raises an eyebrow. "I'm going to deflower you, John Lennon.

I grew up in New Jersey in the '80s. That means one thing: Big hair. ... I had big hair, my boyfriends had big hair, we all had big hair. Our prom looked like the poodle division of the Westminster dog show.

Often hair is the way we are differentiated in this culture. To me the decision to straighten your hair is deeply political.

My mother's white, and she didn't know how to do my hair, so I had something that I always call white-mama hair.

My personal beliefs were shaped more by experience and by watching the news when I was young: images of angelic-looking college students in Mississippi crying like the world was ending because black people were being allowed on their campus; the slow mounting horror of Vietnam on the evening news every night; sitting with my parents in front of the TV and being appalled at the way the Chicago police were treating the protesters during the '68 Democratic convention. Being eyed with suspicion because of my age and the way I wore my hair.

Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it “wind tossed.” If only she knew.