Hair Quotes - Page 37

They kept me in short pants as long as they could, until they were shaving the hair on my legs because it was beginning to photograph.

The key to looking great in the evening is to look original. Try to look different from others without looking out of place. When everyone else is wearing black, stand out in a bold, bright color. When everyone else is wearing dress that falls to the floor, shock them with a short gold brocade suit. But try not to overdo it. Focus on one thing: Will it be a statement neckclace, a stunning pair of earrings, or really big hair? You decide.

He must have been handsome when he was alive and was handsome still, although made monstrous by his pallor and her awareness of what he was. His mouth looked soft, his cheekbones as sharp as blades, and his jaw curved, giving him an off-kilter beauty. His black hair a mad forest of dirty curls.

I love my grey hair and wrinkles. I love the fact that my face has more of an edge and more character than it did when I was in my 20s and 30s. No Botox for me.

Nobody ever said that growing old would be easy. Just having to hold the newspaper out in your forties and then hair growing out of unusual parts of your body in your fifties. It's tough on the ego.

As for uniqueness, this is virtually nonexistent! And it's a shame that people think they're unique because they have a face ring, retro clothing, colorful hair, drive a certain kind of automobile or listen to some obscure musician.

Tosses her head and flips her hair, she got a whole bunch of nothing in there.

French girls still have the Jane Birkin culture. You can go just like that, without makeup, without managing your hair.

I find the whole concept of being 'sexy' embarrassing and confusing. If I do a photo-shoot, people desperately want to change me - dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe. Then there's the choice of clothes. I know everyone wants a picture of me in a mini-skirt. But that's not me.

The large executive chair elevates the sitter. and it is covered with the skin of some animal, preferably your predecessor.

I've changed the way I look a bit but not intentionally. I've cut my hair. I've got a bit of pink in it and lately I've become a bit monochrome, wearing a lot of black and white.

I'm never happy with my face, my hair, I haven't really got any boobs and I'm not really that tall.

The painter’s instrument is his armchair.

I dread no more the first white in my hair, Or even age itself, the easy shoe, The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair: Time, doing this to me, may alter too My anguish, into something I can bear

Wind in my hair, I feel part of everywhere Underneath my being is a road that disappeared Late at night I hear the trees, they're singing with the dead Overhead.

She had what it took: great hair, a profound understanding of strategic lip gloss, the intelligence to understand the world and a tiny secret interior deadness which meant she didn’t care.

I'm like a cartoon! I'll look this way when I'm eighty. I can see it now, people will be rolling me around in a wheelchair and I'll still have my big hair, nails, my high heels and my boobs stuck out!

I make jokes about it, but it's the truth that I kind of patterned my look after the town tramp. I didn't know what she was, just this woman who was blond and piled her hair up, wore high heels and tight skirts, and, boy, she was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Momma used to say, "Aw, she's just trash," and I thought, That's what I want to be when I grow up. Trash.

I still want to be an architect and score films and do other things. I always said as long as I've still got teeth and hair and I look cool when I look in the mirror, then I'll do it.

Justin Bieber stole my haircut. And Axl Rose stole my dance!

A veritable incubator of short cuts, schemes and devices to overcome the truth.

My long hair just can't cover up my redneck.

Remember her hair in the morning before it was pinned, black, rampant, savage with loveliness. As if she slept in perpetual storm.

I was born in Boston, but then I went down to Virginia. We spent a little time in Maryland, and then were in Virginia by the time I was seven. What struck me the most was that my mother thought that she had gone to the middle of nowhere, and we would still drive four hours for her to get her hair cut in Washington, D.C.

I'm not bald. I'm just taller than my hair.