Hair Quotes - Page 17

There's no way I'm going to Jersey without my hair gel, can't leave without my gel.

An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.

I don't think I was bullied. If I was bullied, I fought back or turned the other cheek. I have been put in a box, I guess: "Oh you're blonde, you can't play brunette." And I'm always like: "You know what? I'm going to prove you wrong, I'm going to make my hair brown."

To me, what's sexy is when you look like you're having a good time. That, and when you look effortless and have messy hair.

I feel like I've woken up with suddenly more facial hair and a deeper voice.

The good chair is a task one is never completely done with

With girls, everything looks great on the surface. But beware of drawers that won't open. They contain a three-month supply of dirty underwear, unwashed hose, and rubber bands with blobs of hair in them.

There lived a redheaded man who had no eyes or ears. He didn’t have hair either, so he was called a redhead arbitrarily. He couldn’t talk because he had no mouth. He had no nose either. He didn’t even have arms or legs. He had no stomach, he had no back, he had no spine, and he had no innards at all. He didn’t have anything. So we don’t even know who we’re talking about. It’s better that we don’t talk about him any more.

I don't know whether we will find ourselves in the cross hairs, pulled by the short hairs, or just trying to find the next inane hairstyle. But change is coming; it is inevitable. It is as steady and reliable as a ticking clock.

God is dead but my hair is perfect.

Walking on the land or digging in the fine soil I am intensely aware that time quivers slightly, changes occurring in imperceptible and minute ways, accumulating so subtly that they seem not to exist. Yet the tiny shifts in everything--cell replication, the rain of dust motes, lengthening hair, wind-pushed rocks--press inexorably on and on.

I'm awaiting a lover. I have to be rent and pulled apart and live according to the demons and the imagination in me. I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

An affection which is not inspired by the Lord will soon be transformed into lust. Samson is not alone in the history of man in failing in this regard. Delilah is still cutting the hair of man today!

To me hair dressing means shape. It's very important that the foundations should be right.

Hair is another name for sex.

I had short hair for a while, but I ended up loving it.

No one recognizes me. And I hope that I can always go out without being recognized. Maybe that limits you in some way but I like to be able to pull my hair back in a ponytail and get groceries without anyone noticing.

I will bring you a flower from the floor of the sea to wear in your hair.

People don't associate red hair, pale skin, and freckles with beauty.

Legislation won't necessarily start a riot. But the right song can make someone pick up a chair.

What I might have considered good, good doesn't mean every day is going to be perfect, you're not going to have bad breath, your hair is going to be in the perfect place.

The last step will be letting my hair go natural. That's when you'll know I'm free.

Who taught you to hate the color of your skin? Who taught you to hate the texture of your hair? Who taught you to hate the shape of your nose and the shape of your lips? Who taught you to hate yourself from the top of your head to the soles of your feet?

I watch her as she leaves. Everything about her is fluid as a river. Her messy hair, her xylophone voice, the strokes of her paintbrush. Even her camouflage army jacket hangs loose, flowing like ribbons.

I will be 60 or 70 years old still rocking my Chanel blazer with my hair all coiffed.