Quotes About Hair

I grew up in New Jersey in the '80s. That means one thing: Big hair. ... I had big hair, my boyfriends had big hair, we all had big hair. Our prom looked like the poodle division of the Westminster dog show.

I remember so clearly, in the early days, if I had to do a piece of press, they'd phone for me and say, 'Oh, we're going to bring hair and makeup, it'll take about five hours.' And I said, 'Well, if it was Ian McEwan, would it take about five hours? Would there be hair and makeup? Cause if that's not the case, then don't bring the hair and makeup.' So, it's fascinating that they just assume: it's a young woman, she must want to be photographed for five hours. She must have nothing better to do than delight in trying on all your shoes. But it's not the case.

But we live in an age, ladies and gentlemen, where we are keeping morons alive in our gene pools by putting warnings on items that should not require warnings. The hotel I am staying in has a hair dryer, on the cord of the hair dryer there is a warning and this is what it says: “Warning! Do not use in shower!” Ladies and gentlemen if you have a friend who wants to use their hair dryer in the shower, you let them.

I can't relax here. These people have no pubic hair anywhere. We have pubic hair on the ceiling.

Racism is very characteristic of imperialism and capitalism. Hate against me has a lot to do with racism. Because of my big mouth and curly hair. And I'm so proud to have this mouth and this hair, because it is African.

Hair on a man's chest is thought to denote strength. The gorilla is the most powerful of bipeds and has hair on every place on his body except for his chest.

Extensions is you suddenly have long hair when you have short hair, and you can sleep with it and you have it forever, as long as you want to.

I grew out my armpit hair for the summer. It turns out my natural hair colour isn't blonde.

Fang’s hand gently smoothed my hair off my neck. My breath froze in my chest, and every sense seemed hyperalert. His hand stroked my hair again, so softly, and then trailed across my neck and shoulder and down my back, making me shiver. I looked up. “What the heck are you doing?” “Helping you change your mind,” he whispered, and then he leaned over, tilted my chin up, and kissed me.

Stridey-Man: " Want 2 vaca w/me?" William: "Romantic getaway for 2? UR not my type" Stridey-Man: "I'm everyone's type. So U in or out? 'Cause I'm thinking about hooking up w/P, wherever he is. U'd just B extra baggage." William: "In" Stridey: "Knew you couldn't resist me. B ready in 5." William: "Right on. Make it 10. I want 2 style my hair for U. U know, just how U like it." Stridey: "Now U only have 8 minutes 2 do UR hair.

For the first few years of my life my mom used to cut my hair so there were a lot of bowl-cut hair styles

That was in Crescent City, California, up near the Oregon border. I left soon after. But today I was thinking of that place, of Crescent City, and of how I was trying out a new life there with my wife, and how, in the barber's chair that morning, I had made up my mind to go. I was thinking today about the calm I felt when I closed my eyes and let the barber's fingers move through my hair, the sweetness of those fingers, the hair already starting to grow.

My hair is so scary that if you saw it walking down the street, you'd cross to the other side. This humidity is not helping. It's just an excuse for my hair to let its frizz flag fly.

I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to just put my hair under a wig cap and slap on a wig that’s already done. It’s dress up for your hair!

It was very painful combing my hair. My grand-uncle was a Pentecostal bishop, and he was very strict: our hair couldn't be permed or straightened. So I just cut it all off.

Often hair is the way we are differentiated in this culture. To me the decision to straighten your hair is deeply political.

Even the trip throught the Portal had not disarranged Magnus's hair spikes. He tugged on one proudly. "Check it out", he said to Isabelle. "Magic?" "Hair gel. $3.99 at Ricky's.

Once upon a time, growing up male gave little boys a sense of certainty about the natural order of things. We had short hair, wore pants, and played baseball. Girls had long hair, wore skirts, and, no matter how hard they tried, always threw a baseball just like a girl.

One time, many, many years ago, I had the opportunity to dye my hair brunette for a film. And the day I walked out of the hotel where I had it done, I walked out onto the street and realized people looked me in the eye and greeted me good morning. I'd never had that experience before! And I began to notice that a brunette is treated as an affable human being. Later, when I dyed my hair for Lois Riley blonde, and then Alice Ward blonde, people come right up to you, they touch you on the arm, they ask you how you're doing. Men and women both! Blondes have more fun.

It's so different when you change your hair color, you're treated so differently. It's a very funny experience. It's fun, I love changing up my hair.

It's taken me 40-something years, but I embrace the curl. My littlest daughter has the same hair. She likes it when my hair is curly, so I wear it for her.

I used to be very insecure about my curly hair, because I lived in a country where everybody had blonde straight hair.

I wish he hadn't gone and cut his hair. He looks about eight years old. His ears have tripled in size. Everyone's started calling him Dumbo. Which wouldn't be so bad, except they've started calling me Mrs. Dumbo. You can't even tell he's got curly hair anymore. There's nothing left to run my fingers through. Just this weird blond AstroTurf sprouting out of his skull.

You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair... People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is.

I have little hair because my brain is so big it pushes the hair out.

By age seven, I used to comb my hair for performances, just pull my hair up into a bun. Granted, it wasn't a very intricate hairstyle. Still, to be that responsible and disciplined at age seven is unusual.

My real hair color is kind of a dark blonde. Now I just have mood hair.

Oh, I've got glitter in my hair. That's not all that's in my hair, I'll tell you that. I glue it on every morning, whether I need to or not.

[On Sting] He threw a sucker punch. There's the sucker who threw the punch. Him the the Bart Simpson hair doo.

He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a painter he would paint her in that attitude. Her blue felt hat would show off the bronze of her hair against the darkness and the dark panels of her skirt would show off the light ones. Distant Music he would call the picture if he were a painter.

In a good mood I call my hair Chestnut with Gold Glints. In a bad mood, I call it mousy brown

There are things that you can't do - like writing letters to a part of yourself. To your feet or hair. Or heart.

She felt him tremble with the force of his need. He spoke just beneath her ear, his voice thick with tormented pleasure. "You have to leave, Sara ... because I want to hold you like this until your skin melts into mine. I want you in my bed, the smell of you on my sheets, your hair spread across my pillow. I want to take your innocence. God! I want to ruin you for anyone else.

I'd love to have time to do my hair, honestly. I'd love to be Victoria Beckham just for one day - to look that good. But I can't.

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.

Say something in Mandarin,” said Tessa, with a smile. Jem said something that sounded like a lot of breathy vowels and consonants run together, his voice rising and falling melodically: “Ni hen piao liang.” “What did you say?” Tessa was curious. “I said your hair is coming undone — here,” he said, and reached out and tucked an escaping curl back behind her ear. Tessa felt the blood spill hot up into her face, and was glad for the dimness of the carriage. “You have to be careful with it,” he said, taking his hand back, slowly, his fingers lingering against her cheek.

There are occasions that I love to be fashionable and enjoy, you know? But the work day of a mother doesn't include a hair making team or any consideration of your shoe.

It's a hard thing to age a character because you can't really suddenly give someone gray hair.

The scientist who yields anything to theology, however slight, is yielding to ignorance and false pretenses, and as certainly as if he granted that a horse-hair put into a bottle of water will turn into a snake.

He moved to run a hand through her cornrows, then pulled back remembering the one time he's tried that-Connie had lectured him on the Eleventh Commandment: Thou shalt not touch thy black girlfriend's hair. Ever.

Isabella with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.

What people don't get is that hair is such a big part of our identity.

He stood up straight and looked the world squarely in the fields and hills. To add weight to his words he stuck the rabbit bone in his hair. He spread his arm out wide. "I will go mad!" he annouced.

Backstage at the Victoria's Secret show is pure madness. Big personalities, big hair, and tons of press.

I've made no secret of the fact that I often wear wigs and have in fact launched my own Dynasty range, named after various characters. I find this saves a ton of time - as well as my own hair.

Im married to a white man, and then my daughter came out looking like the whitest white child with blonde hair and blue eyes. And Im like, Omigosh, now what am I going to do? She has my moms features and is lighter than my husband. And my boy is browner than I am. Brown eyes and really tan.

You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

My hair used to be real long, and my parents were encouraged when I cut it. They thought I was going 'straight,' but I was just getting weirder - at least in their eyes. I was getting into the punk thing.