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Hair Quotes

“Live as though you don't exist; like you are two eyeballs floating in space with nothing behind them. No brain attached. Not even hair - Nothing.There is a place inside your own heart, inside your own being that knows the kind of seemingly foolish things I speak and it is totally thrilled to be reminded of this infinite expanse and infinite joy that it is. Find this place.”

KnowsHeartKindTwoJoySpeakSpaceBehindsBrainLike YouHairInfiniteFoolishFloatingExpanseEyeballsFloating In Space
Author:Mooji
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“A man's country is not a certain area of land, of mountains, rivers, and woods, but it is a principle: and patriotism is loyalty to that principle. In poetic minds and in popular enthusiasm this feeling becomes closely associated with the soil and the symbols of the country. But the secret sanctification of the soil and the symbol is the idea which they represent, and this idea the patriot worships through the name and the symbol, as a lover kisses with rapture the glove of his mistress and wears a lock of her hair upon his heart.”

MenMindHeartIdeasCountryFeelingsCertainNamesSecretPrinciplesLandHairLoversMountainKissingWorshipAreasRiversWoodsLoyaltyEnthusiasmSymbolsSoilPatriotismPoeticLocksPatriotMistressGlovesRaptureSanctification
Book:On the principles and character of American institutions, and the duties of American citizens, 1856-1891
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“Reviving Spring, a toast to thy fresh lips! Thy blush is music, and e'en heaven lurks In thy thick perfumed hair that hangs about Thy flowered shoulders like enchanted rain; Thy sigh is song and thy soft breath a balm, Dispelling death -- soft loosing his cold grip, Unravelling darkness in the heart of pain, As o'er dank waters rings the laugh of dawn.”

HeartPainSongHeavenWaterDarknessLaughingHairColdSpringRainBreathsLipsRingsShouldersDawnThickSighToastsEnchantedDankDispelling
Book:Cloudrifts at Twilight
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“On summer evenings, when every flower, and tree, and bird, might have better addressed my soft young heart, I have in my day been caught in the palm of a female hand by the crown, have been violently scrubbed from the neck to the roots of the hair as a purification for the Temple, and have then been carried off highly charged with saponaceous electricity, to be steamed like a potato in the unventilated breath of the powerful Boanerges Boiler and his congregation, until what small mind I had, was quite steamed out of me”

MindHeartHas BeensHandsMightFunnyYoungPowerfulTreeFlowerHairSummerBirdHumorousFemaleRootsBreathsCaughtEveningNecksTemplesCrownsElectricityPalmsPotatoesCongregationPurificationSmall MindsYoung At HeartBoilerSummer Evening
Book:Novels
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“Love's the only thing I've thought of or read about since I was knee-high. That's what I always dreamed of, of meeting somebody and falling in love. And when that remarkable thing happened, I was going to recite poetry to her for hours about how her heart's an angel's wing and her hair the strings of a heavenly harp. Instead I got drunk and hollered at her and called her a harpy.”

LoveHeartFallHoursHappenedHairAngelWingsMeetingsFalling In LoveThings HappenDrunkKneesRemarkableHeavenlyStringsHarpsHarpies
Author:Ben Hecht
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“Of all the conditions to which the heart is subject suspense is one that most gnaws and cankers into the frame. One little month of that suspense, when it involves death, we are told by an eye witness in "Wakefield on the Punishment of Death," is sufficient to plough fixed lines and furrows in a convict of five and twenty,--sufficient, to dash the brown hair with grey, and to bleach the grey to white.”

HeartLittlesEyeLinesWhiteFiveConditionsSubjectsHairMonthsTwentiesPunishmentWitnessSuspenseFixedSufficientBrownGreyConvictsBleachBrown Hair
Author:Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton
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“There is a little bit of a head vs. heart kind of battle that happens sometimes with the song. There's the goose bump thing, where the melody or whatever it is just gets you and you don't know why. Sometimes, it's in a genre that you didn't think you liked and, all of a sudden, the song hits you and you just say, wow, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck. I love this song.”

ThinkingKnowsFeelsHeartKindLittlesSometimesHappensSongBitsHairBattleLittle BitGenreNecksMelodyWowBumpsGeese
Author:Josh Groban
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“This moment, this being, is the thing. My life is all life in little. The moon, the planets, pass around my heart. The sun, now hidden by the round bulk of this earth, shines into me, and in me as well. The gods and the angels both good and bad are like the hairs of my own head, seemingly numberless, and growing from within. I people the cosmos from myself, it seems, yet what am I? A puff of dust, or a brief coughing spell, with emptiness and silence to follow.”

PeopleWellsHeartLittlesMomentsSeemsEarthLife IsMy OwnSilenceSunGrowingPlanetsHairMy HeartMoonAngelShiningRoundsDustEmptinessCosmosSpellsGood And BadPuffCoughing
Author:Alexander Eliot
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“May you find in the nectar of life, the sweetness of hope in your heart, feel the comfort of song birds in your soul, the grace of new wind in your wings. Color you sprirt with rainbows and shower gold dust in your hair. Time heals. Life renews. Dreams take flight agian. close you eyes and drink it all in.”

FeelsHeartMaySoulDreamEyeSongGraceColorWindHairDrinkComfortBirdGoldWingsHealFlightDustYour SoulRainbowShowersSweetnessNectarTime HealsGold Dust
Author:Laurel Burch
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“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer.”

YearsFirstsHeartLightEyeGirlSpeakSilenceHairArmsLateYears AgoGardenWetWaste LandHyacinths
Book:My Own Wasteland
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“it may not always be so; and i say that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart, as mine in time not far away; if on another's face your sweet hair lay in such a silence as i know,or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, stand helplessly before the spirit at bay; if this should be, i say if this should be- you of my heart, send me a little word; that i may go unto him, and take his hands, saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands.”

IfsKnowsShouldHeartMayLittlesHandsFacesSpiritTurnsLostStrongSilenceAcceptingLandMinesSweetHairMy HeartBirdLaysFingersLipsDearBe YouFar AwayAfarClutch
Book:100 Selected Poems
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“There is so little to remember of anyone - an anecdote, a conversation at a table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming habitual fondness not having meant to keep us waiting long.”

WayFeelsHeartLittlesLongHomeDreamRememberWaitingMemoriesChanceStepsWrittenDoorsHairConversationTablesFleshStrokesHabitualAnecdotesFondnessWanderersWay Home
Author:Marilynne Robinson
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“It looks as though your shop is doing well," Luka said gazing around, "Could you help me find a gift for a lady friend of mine?" My heart plunged to my grenn satin slippers, and I had to stare down at Azarte for a minute, petting him hard. Naturally Luka had a "lady friend." She was probably nobly born: the daughter of a count or a duke. I imagined her having thick dark hair and clear skin, and was bitterly jealous. "Of course," I stammered after a time. "What would she like? A gown? A sash?" If she came in for a fitting, I decided to "accidentlly" poke her with every pin.”

IfsWellsLooksHeartSaidHardHelpingCoursesBornDarkClearMinutesMinesHairMy HeartDaughterDecidedSkinsStaringShopsHelp MeJealousThickPinsFittingDukesGownsGazingPokeSlippersSatinDark Hair
Author:Jessica Day George
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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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“Every woman should have a daughter to tell her stories to. Otherwise, the lessons learned are as useless as spare buttons from a discarded shirt. And all that is left is a fading name and the shape of a nose or the color of hair. The men who write the history books will tell you the stories of battles and conquests. But the women will tell you the stories of people's hearts.”

PeopleMenShouldWritingHeartBookStoriesNamesLeftColorHairLessonsBattleShapesDaughterShould HaveUselessNosesShirtsButtonsSparesConquestFadingDiscardedHistory BooksLesson Learned
Book:The Lost Hours
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“Peter curled his hands into fists at his sides. 'Kiss me,' he said. She leaned towards him slowly, until her face was too close to be in focus. Her hair fell over Peter's shoulder like a curtain and her eyes closed. She smelled like autumn-like apple cider and slanting sun and the snap of the coming cold. He felt his heart scrambling, caught inside the confines of his own body. Josie's lips landed just on the edge of his, almost his cheek and not quite his mouth. 'I'm glad I wasn't stuck in here alone,' she said shyly, and he tasted the words, sweet as mint on her breath.”

HeartSaidBodyHandsEyeFacesFeltSidesSunFocusSweetHairColdKissingMouthsBreathsLipsEdgesCaughtStuckGladShouldersApplesAutumnPeterCheeksHer EyesCurtainsFistsSnapsKiss MeMintCiderApple CiderJosie
Book:The Jodi Picoult Collection #3: Vanishing Acts, The Tenth Circle, and Nineteen Minutes
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“Kevin stopped where he was and stood there simply gazing at her. Molly sat cross-legged in the meadow with the sun shining on her bare shoulders and a pair of yellow butterflies fluttering like hair bows around her head. She was all the dreams he'd lost at dawn-dreams of everything he hadn't understood he needed until now. She was his playmate, his confidante, the lover who made his blood rush. She was the mother of his children and the companion of his old age. She was the joy of his heart.”

HeartChildrenMadeDreamAgeJoyMotherLostSunBloodHairNeededLoversUnderstoodCrossesShiningShouldersOld AgeDawnSatPairsCompanionYellowButterflyBowsMeadowsKevinGazingFluttering
Author:Susan Elizabeth Phillips
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“Sometimes I remember that I can't always protect those I love." Under his fingers, her hair was soft and silky. She didn't try to tell him that he wasn't God, that he couldn't protect everyone. He knew that. But knowing and believing were two different things. What she did say succeeded in stopping his heart. "I wish you'd love me." Why?" Because then maybe you could protect me, too" Haunting sorrow whispered through her tone.”

TryingBelieveHeartI CanTwoDifferentSometimesRememberWishKnowingHairSorrowProtectFingersToneDifferent ThingsStoppingHauntingWish YouTwo Different Things
Book:Slave to Sensation
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“On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes, the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes. I wipe them away with a black woolly glove And try not to notice I've fallen in love On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think: This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink. But the juke-box inside me is playing a song That says something different. And when was it wrong? On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair I am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care. the head does its best but the heart is the boss- I admit it before I am halfway across”

ThinkingTryingHeartDoeSaidDifferentEyeCareSongBlackConditionsTearsWindHairFoolDrinkBoxesDon't CareWeatherBridgesI Don't CareFallenCharmGoodbyeBossTemptedHalfwayWipeGlovesSkipWaterloo
Book:Two Cures for Love: Selected Poems 1979-2006
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