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Hair Quotes

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Hair Quotes

“Burn, burn tree and fern! Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch To light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Bake and toast ‘em, fry and roast ‘em! till beards blaze, and eyes glaze; till hair smells and skins crack, fat melts, and bones black in cinders lie beneath the sky! So dwarves shall die, and light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Ya-harri-hey! Ya hoy!”

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Book:The Hobbit
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“Brown Penny I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,' And then, 'I am old enough'; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. 'Go and love, go and love, young man, If the lady be young and fair.' Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair. O love is the crooked thing, There is nobody wise enough To find out all that is in it, For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon. Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, One cannot begin it too soon.”

IfsThinkingMenEnoughMightWould BeRunningYoungStarsLove IsWiseHairMoonShadowFairsAnd LoveYoung ManBrownRunning AwayPenniesCrookedLoopsBe Young
Book:Collected Poems
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“I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.”

ThinkingLooksMayMadeEarthNatureTreeSweetHairArmsFoolPrayingSummerMouthsRainLovelyHungrySnowForestsLike MeLiftsBreastsNestsBosomsRobinsNature BeautyForests And TreesNature And BeautyGod And NatureNature's BeautyArbor DayInspirational TreeGod Nature
Author:Joyce Kilmer
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“The images were gone, but Calvin was there, was with her, was part of her. She had moved beyond knowing him in sensory images to that place which is beyond images. Now she was kything Calvin, not red hair, or freckles, or eager blue eyes, or the glowing smile; nor was she hearing the deep voice with the occasional treble cracking; not any of this, but - Calvin. She was with Calvin, kything with every atom of her being, returning to him all the fortitude and endurance and hope which he had given her.”

EyeGivenVoiceGoneKnowingHairRedBlueMovedHearingEnduranceAtomsFortitudeOccasionalGlowingBlue EyesSensoryRed HairFreckles
Author:Madeleine L'Engle
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“Or perhaps a widow found him and took him in: brought him an easy chair, changed his sweater every morning, shaved his face until the hair stopped growing, took him faithfully to bed with her every night, whispered sweet nothings into what was left of his ear, laughed with him over black coffee, cried with him over yellowing pictures, talked greenly about having kids of her own, began to miss him before she became sick, left him everything in her will, thought of only him as she died, always knew he was fiction but believed in him anyway.”

KidsFacesNightFoundLeftEasyBlackFictionMorningGrowingMissingChangedSweetHairBedEarsSickDiedCoffeeChairsLaughedEvery NightCriedEvery MorningWidowsSweatersHaving KidsBlack Coffee
Author:Jonathan Safran Foer
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“Some make their worlds without knowing it. Their universes are just sesame seeds and three-day weekends and dial tones and skinned knees and physics and driftwood and emerald earrings and books dropped in bathtubs and holes in guitars and plastic and empathy and hardwood and heavy water and high black stockings and the history of the Vikings and brass and obsolescence and burnt hair and collapsed souffles and the impossibility of not falling in love in an art museum with the person standing next to you looking at the same painting and all the other things that just happen and are.”

WorldPersonsArtBookHappensFallUniverseThreeNextBlackWaterKnowingPaintingHairEmpathyStandingFalling In LoveGuitarHeavySeedsPhysicsHolesKneesToneMuseumsWeekendPlasticImpossibilityVikingsBrassStockingsEarringsBathtubsEmeraldsObsolescenceDriftwoodSouffleNot Falling In LoveHardwoodSkinned Knees
Author:Jonathan Safran Foer
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“Tell me, was I the sort of person who took your elbow when cars passed on the street, touched your cheek while you talked, combed your wet hair, stopped by the side of the road in the country to point out certain constellations, standing behind you so that you had the advantage of leaning and looking up?”

PersonsCountryCertainSidesBehindsStreetsCarHairAdvantageStandingTouchedCheeksWetBehind YouConstellationsElbowsWet Hair
Book:Man Walks Into a Room
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“Afterward, I curl around her. We lie in silence until darkness falls, and then, haltingly, she begins to talk...She speaks without need or even room for response, so I simply hold her and stroke her hair. She talks of the pain, grief, and horror of the past four years; of learning to cope with being the wife of a man so violent and unpredictable his touch made her skin crawl and of thinking, until quite recently, that she'd finally managed to do that. And then, finally, of how my appearance had forced her to realize she hadn't learned to cope at all.”

ThinkingMenNeedsYearsMadePainPastLyingFallSpeakRealizingRoomsGriefSilenceDarknessFourWifeHairHorrorSkinsResponseAppearanceViolentFour YearsStrokesUnpredictableCurls
Author:Sara Gruen
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“I listened for the voice I knew so well, the one I always heard at the beginning. Good girl, Macy! You're doing great! You know the first steps are the hardest part! They were. Sometimes I felt so out of sync, it was all could do not to quit after a few strides. But I kept on, as I did now. I had to, to get to the next part, this part, where I finally caught up with Wes, my shadow aligning itself with his, an dhe turned to look at me, pushing his hair our of his eyes.”

KnowsFirstsWellsLooksSometimesEyeGirlNextFeltVoiceStepsHeardHairShadowCaughtQuittingHardestHis EyesPushingFirst StepsCaught UpLook At MeStrideGood GirlSync
Author:Sarah Dessen
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“I have been thinking about the girl I met last night in the mirror: dark on the marble-ivory white: glossy black hair: deep suspiring eyes in which one's glances sink because they are nervous, curious, turned to sexual curiosity.”

ThinkingHas BeensEyeLastsNightGirlBlackDarkWhiteHairMetsMirrorsCuriosityNervousCuriousGlancesLast NightMarbleIvoryBlack Hair
Book:The Alexandria Quartet: Justine, Balthazar, Mountolive, Clea
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“One day I would have all the books in the world, shelves and shelves of them. I would live my life in a tower of books. I would read all day long and eat peaches. And if any young knights in armor dared to come calling on their white chargers and plead with me to let down my hair, I would pelt them with peach pits until they went home.”

IfsWorldLongBookHomeYoungWhiteHairCallingOne DayTowersShelvesLiving My LifePitsKnightsArmorPeachesLet Down
Book:The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate
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“No one wants to admit we're addicted to music. That's just not possible. No one's addicted to music and television and radio. We just need more of it, more channels, a larger screen, more volume. We can't bear to be without it, but no, nobody's addicted. We could turn it off anytime we wanted. I fit a window frame into a brick wall. With a little brush, the size for fingernail polish, I glue it. The window is the size of a fingernail. The glue smells like hair spray. The smell tastes like oranges and gasoline.”

WantNeedsLittlesWantedTurnsTelevisionHairWallBearsFitTasteWindowAddictionSizeRadioSmellScreensVolumeBrushesOrangeBricksPolishGlueSprayGasolineFingernailsBrick WallTelevision And RadioAddicted To Music
Author:Chuck Palahniuk
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“I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”

RunningWaterSleepMistakeMorningHairTerribleBedMouthsHorribleBad DaySweatersGum
Book:Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day: A Musical Based on the Book by Judith Viorst
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“At first we raced through space, like shadows and light; her rants, my raves; her dark hair, my blonde; black dresses, white. She's a purple-black African-violet-dark butterfly and I a white moth. We were two wild ponies, Dawn and Midnight, the wind electrifying our manes and our hooves quaking the city; we were photo negatives of each other, together making the perfect image of a girl.”

FirstsTwoLightTogetherGirlBlackDarkSpaceWhitePerfectCitiesWindHairShadowDressesDawnButterflyMidnightVioletPurpleBlondeMothsPoniesRantRaveDark Hair
Author:Francesca Lia Block
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“I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead white, of course, with no makeup and from the awful ordeal, but smiling and radiant, with my hair down to my waist, and reaching out for my first little squirmy child and saying its name, whatever it was.”

FirstsChildrenLittlesCoursesNamesWhiteHairTablesAwfulReachingMakeupReach OutDeliveryRadiantElbowsOrdealsNo Makeup
Book:the bell jar
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“If Los Angeles is a woman reclining billboard model with collagen-puffed lips and silicone-inflated breasts, a woman in a magenta convertible with heart-shaped sunglasses and cotton candy hair; if Los Angeles is this woman, then the San Fernando Valley is her teenybopper sister. The teenybopper sister snaps bug stretchy pink bubbles over her tongue and checks her lipgloss in the rearview mirror, . . . Teeny plays the radio too loud and bites her nails, wondering if the glitter polish will poison her.”

IfsHeartPlayWonderHairModelsMirrorsLipsRadioTongueChecksLoudPoisonBreastsLos AngelesBitesValleysBubblesNailsCandyBugsPolishSnapsGlitterCottonSunglassesBillboardsRearview MirrorCotton CandyMagentaCollagen
Author:Francesca Lia Block
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“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?”

StatesParticularHairOughtDiversityDressesConstantVariousEveningRememberedRelatedComplimentJournalCousinBathsAbsentCivilityCurlsRecourseTenorsComplexion
Book:The Complete Novels of Jane Austen
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“Taro came into the room, strands of hair flying free of the tie at the back of his skull, sweat plastering his cream-colored shirt against his chest and back. I wished I had an artist's skill, that I could make renderings of him in all his states of beauty. He would never want to look at them, or even know about them. I would just like them for myself. Maybe he would want to see them when he was much older, and beautiful in a different way.”

KnowsWayWantLooksDifferentStatesBeautifulArtistRoomsHairSkillsFlyingDifferent WaysShirtsTiesChestsSweatCreamSkullsStrandsRenderingFlying Free
Author:Moira J. Moore
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“What an unreliable thing is time--when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair. .... But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.”

WantYearsLittlesEndsFacesGirlHoursLinesOur LivesHairMonthsBandSticksStealingSuitsTiesFancyColourNecksYour FaceEnd TimesGlueRubberRibbonsUnreliableParcelNoosesStranglingRubber Bands
Author:Rohinton Mistry
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“Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a house across the field from a girl who no longer exists. They made up a thousand games. She was Queen and he was King. In the autumn light, her hair shone like a crown. They collected the world in small handfuls. When the sky grew dark they parted with leaves in their hair.”

WorldMadeLightGirlGamesHouseDarkBoysSkyFieldsHairGrewKingsThousandQueensAutumnCrownsHandfulOnce Upon A TimeHistory Of Love
Author:Nicole Krauss
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“He slouched back in his seat, looking tired, and leaned his face on his shoulder to look at me while he played with my hair. He started to hum a song, and then, after a few bars, he sang it. Quietly, sort of half-sung, half-spoken, incredibly gentle. I didn’t catch all the words, but it was about his summer girl. Me. Maybe his forever girl. His yellow eyes were half-lidded as he sang, and in that golden moment, hanging taut in the middle of an icecovered landscape like a single bubble of summer nectar, I could see how my life could be stretched out in front of me.”

LooksMomentsEyeFacesSongGirlHalfForeverMiddleFrontsHairSummerTiredBarsShouldersGoldenLandscapeGentleSeatsYellowBubblesLook At MeNectarGolden Moments
Book:Shiver Series (Shiver, Linger, Forever, Sinner)
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