“When you put your costume on and you get your hair and your makeup done [for a role] and you stare in the mirror you feel like a different person.” FeelsPersonsDifferentDoneRolesHairMirrorsStaringMakeupCostumes Author:Michael Shannon
“You can only stare at a clown mask so long. After a few minutes it's no big deal anymore. So people start paying attention to the music instead of what the clown is doing, or what he is wearing, or how cool his spikey hair is.” PeopleLongBigsDealsAttentionMinutesHairPay AttentionStaringMaskClownBig Deal Author:Paul Gray
“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
“Heads in the Women's Ward On pillow after pillow lies The wild white hair and staring eyes; Jaws stand open; necks are stretched With every tendon sharply sketched; A bearded mouth talks silently To someone no one else can see. Sixty years ago they smiled At lover, husband, first-born child. Smiles are for youth. For old age come Death's terror and delirium.” YearsFirstsChildrenEyeAgeLyingBornWhiteYouthHairLoversHusbandMouthsYears AgoTerrorOld AgeStaringNecksSixtyPillowDeliriumWhite Hair Author:Philip Larkin
“How I will cherish you then, you grief-torn nights! Had I only received you, inconsolable sisters, on more abject knees, only buried myself with more abandon in your loosened hair. How we waste our afflictions! We study them, stare out beyond them into bleak continuance, hoping to glimpse some end. Whereas they're really our wintering foliage, our dark greens of meaning, one of the seasons of the clandestine year -- ; not only a season --: they're site, settlement, shelter, soil, abode.” YearsEndsNightDarkGriefStudyHairWasteSeasonsStaringKneesSoilAbandonCherishBuriedShelterSiteAfflictionTornGlimpseSettlementBleakAbodeContinuanceFoliageClandestine Book:Rilke and Andreas-Salomé: A Love Story in Letters Source: Rilke and Andreas-Salomé: A Love Story in Letters