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Beard Quotes

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Beard Quotes

“Hell! His beard grows fast as blazes, like a damp wicket in springtime sun, green, and Rachel's skin is so fine, his bristles can score her red the way a new ball marks a bat, English alum on English unbleached willow, finest quality, special selection, Rachel-grade. Zach, my man, you have cricket on the brain! Thomas has asked him to play on Sunday. Bring Rachel, he said. Thomas 'All Souls' Aubry, gentleman, corinthian at heart, and half French yet more English than a true-born.”

“If lots of men around you are growing a beard just because of political or ideological reasons, you refuse this, and if you have a beard, shave it off! Leave your herd to find yourself! Find your own style, not the style your ideology or your party is dictating on you! Remember, you build a sound character mostly through refusing, through saying no, through staying different!”

“Jeg haver ofte recommenderet Friehed i at skrive, og anseet de publiqve Censurer som Baand og Lænker for den Lærde Verden. Jeg haver alleene holdet for, at Skrive-Friehed ikke burde tillades uden dem, der have naaet en moed Alder; og er jeg der udi bleven bestyrket, efterdi jeg paa nogen Tiid haver seet unge Personer, førend de have faaet Skiæg paa Hagen, at føre Pennen i de delicateste Materier saavel politiske som moralske. Det er om saadanne, som man bør sige med David:Lader dem blive i Jericho, indtil deres Skiægge voxe.”

“Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.”

“I would have unleashed my secret weapon.” She leaned in and whispered, “Operation Feel the Beard.” “That’s your secret weapon?” He felt his beard every day, and he could say with 100 percent certainty that it was fairly low on his list of ways into his good graces. “I think you’re overestimating the beard, Hollywood. Now if you were to feel another part of—” She felt his beard. Sweet effen Christmas.”

“So this funny incident happened a week ago. I was in a Departmental Store and I couldn't find what I was looking for and so went to the shop assistants who were two girls. Me: Is Moustache and Beard Wax available at this store? The two girls looked at me with surprise and asked: To remove your moustache and beard?”

“As another year went by And a new year came to greet us I got up in the morning to take my class And in the afternoon, while sauntering down the road I saw a hairdresser's saloon inviting me in And so I met the hairdresser A fine young lad, and I told him to get my hair and beard trimmed if he may please But for some reason I decided to keep the moustache without any trims Life makes us poets, with a love for poetry.”

“Years ago, he shaved off his beard, without telling her, just appeared at the breakfast table one morning with half his face missing, or so it seemed to her in the first, shocked moment of seeing him. If she had met him in the street she would not have recognised him, except for his eyes. How strange he looked, grotesque, almost, with those indecently naked cheeks and the chin flat and square like the blunt edge of a stone axe. It was as if the top part of his head had been taken off and carved and trimmed and jammed down into the scooped-out jaws of a stranger. She almost wept, but he went on eating his toast as if nothing had happened. He had bought a cut-throat razor with an ivory handle, an antique thing from the last century; he showed it to her in its black velvet box lined with scarlet satin. She could not look at it without a shiver. He liked to show off his skill with it, and would leave the bathroom door open so she could admire the deft way he wielded the dangerous, gleaming thing, holding it at an elegant angle between fingertips and thumb, his little finger fastidiously crooked, and sweeping the blade raspingly through the snow-like foam. Harsh light above the bath and the steely shine of the mirror and one dark, humorously cocked eye glancing at her sideways from the glass. Where is it now, she wonders, that razor? In a week or two he got tired of using it and let his beard grow back.”

“There's a reason caveman started to develop sophisticated tools before the meteor wiped them all out: It's so they could fucking shave. Do you know how frustrating it must have been to be hunched over all night trying to start a fire only to finally succeed just to have your beard go up in flames? No aloe vera back then.”

“First, if you participate in Movember, fuck you. Second, if you want to raise money for prostate cancer (a noble cause), do it the old-fashioned way, by either begging for it or exerting yourself physically for donations. Sitting on your ass and letting nature take its course above your upper lip is not the same thing as running a 10K at a local high school or breaking out the set of power tools your dad gave you as a housewarming present collecting dust in your garage and using them to go out and build a habitat for humanity. Maybe I can raise money for rectal cancer by getting people to pledge a dollar every time I take a shit. And third no one wants to see that horrific seventies pornstache growing like a caterpillar with cerebral palsy zigzagging across your face; you look like you're about to go door to door informing people that you're a registered sex offender who's just moved in next door and would their kids like to come out and was your windowless van for a dollar? Fuck Movember. And November.”