Flat Iron Quotes & Sayings
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Top Flat Iron Quotes

Rude cross lay flat upon the barren earth and on it was bound a man - half-naked, wild of aspect with his corded limbs, glaring eyes and shock of tangled hair. His executioners were Roman soldiers, and with heavy hammers they prepared to pin the victim's hands and feet to the wood with iron spikes. — H.P. Lovecraft

Wanted to give you a heads up: I heard that Flat Finn sustained an injury the other day. Nothing major, though. Something to do with Matt, a steaming iron, and maniacal shouts of, "There are no wrinkles allowed in this house! You may be flat, but you're not smooth enough yet for this family!" — Jessica Park

That obstinate sense of independence was the biggest challenge I face in building my little house (that, and not always knowing what I was doing). I was stubborn in the way I hated to ask for help. Some people are good at it, asking friends or their husbands to collect ginger ale and crackers at the grocery because they feel nauseous, or standing on the side of the road with a tire iron in one hand, hoping someone will stop to change their flat tire. I'm not like that; I'd rather have a rough stick dragged across my gums than walk to the neighbor's house to borrow sugar or ask for help jump-starting my car. — Dee Williams

Ranks of men on foot, men with shields, men with weapons, a shield wall that was meant to awe us, and it did.
A shield wall is a terrible thing. It is a wall of wood, iron, and steel with one purpose alone, to kill.
And this shield wall was massive, a wall of painted round shields stretching wide across the ridge's flat top, and above it were the banners of the jarls, chieftains, and kings who had come to kill us. — Bernard Cornwell

See now, for a good blade, one that will not betray the man in battle, rods of hard and soft iron must be heated and braided together. Then is the blade folded over and hammered flat again, and maybe yet again, many times for the finest blades ... So the hard and soft iron are mingled without blending, before the blade is hammered up to its finished form and tempered, and ground to an edge that shall draw blood from the wind. So comes the pattern, like oil and water that mingle but do not mix. Yet it is the strength of the blade, for without the hard iron the blade would bend in battle, and without the soft iron it would break. — Rosemary Sutcliff

The city had grown, implacably, spreading its concrete and alloy fingers wider every day over the dark and feral country. Nothing could stop it. Mountains were stamped flat. Rivers were dammed off or drained or put elsewhere. The marshes were filled. The animals shot from the trees and then the trees cut down. And the big gray machines moved forward, gobbling up the jungle with their iron teeth, chewing it clean of its life and all its living things.
Until it was no more.
Leveled, smoothed as a highway is smoothed, its centuries choked beneath millions and millions of tons of hardened stone.
The birth of a city ... It had become the death of a world. — Charles Beaumont

My hair is naturally curly, and in the 80's, even though I experimented with different lengths, I generally wore it curly. Since then, I've learned how to use a blow dryer and flat iron. — Susanna Hoffs

I use my Bionic flat iron and hair dryer, all shampoo and conditioners are sulfate free, and keep the blow-drys to a minimum. If I can go two to three or even four days without washing my hair, I'll just go for it. I know, sounds gross, but otherwise, I'd be frying my hair. — Edy Ganem

A TWIST OF LIGHT-prologue
Reissue date; 6-16-14
The new mother mover the sacking away from the tiny red face, marveling at the perfect mouth and the arc of dark eyebrows of the child she cradled. "Did you ever see anything so pretty?" She spoke to no one in particular, but addressed her question to the group of women huddled inside the hut. Fashioned from cardboard and corrugated iron, the hut wasn't much bigger than the flatbed of the truck that had brought her here.
"Nothing's quite as pretty as a healthy baby." the flat vowels marked the midwife's origins in Oklahoma as surely as her faded sunbonnet and her residence in the labor camp. Set up less than two months ago, it already bulged with over five hundred people who'd been blown out of their homes along with the rich topsoil.(less) — Joyce Mandeville

Common sense tells us that the world is flat, that the sun goes around the earth, that heavy bodies always fall faster than light bodies, that boats made of iron will sink. — Stuart Chase

His eyes darkened. "You're in pain, aren't you?" He touched her temple, and she leaned her head against his hand.
"Yes." The inside of her head felt stuffed full like an iron band slowly tightened around her brain.
"Still having bad dreams?"
"Nightmares." She put her palms flat to his chest and spoke to the buttons on his coat. "Always the same. A face looming over me. I can't breathe. I feel helpless. And frightened."
"Hush, my heart." His fingertips nudged her chin up so that she looked into his face. "Hush."
She leaned against him. "Why can't I remember?"
"It isn't time, yet." His hands landed on her shoulders. — Carolyn Jewel

It turned out to be only our former chauffeur, Tsiganov, who had thought nothing of riding all the way from St. Petersburg, on buffers and freight cars, through the immense, frosty and savage expanse of revolutionary Russia, for the mere purpose of bringing us a very welcome sum of money sent us by good friends of ours. After a month's stay, Tsiganov declared the Crimean scenary bored him and departed
to go all the way back north, with a big bag over his shoulder, containing various articles which we would have gladly given him had we thought he coveted them (such as a tourser press, tennis shoes, a nigthshirt, an alarm clock, a flat iron, several other ridiculous things I have forgotten) and the absence of which only gradually came to light if not pointed out, with vindictive zeal, by an anemic servant girl whose pale charms he had also rifled. — Vladimir Nabokov

The body directly before him, however, was that of a child. The blue of the eyes was now covered in a milky film, giving it its only depth, since all that was behind that veil was flat, like iron shields or silver coins, sealed and deprived of all promise. They were, he told himself yet again, eyes that no longer worked, and the loss of that was beyond comprehension. He would paint this child's face. He would paint it a thousand times. Ten thousand. He would offer the paintings as gifts to every man and every woman of the realm. And each time any one man or woman stirred awake the hearth gods of anger and hate, feeding the gaping mouth of violence and uttering pathetic lies about making things better, or right, or pure, or safe, he would give them yet another copy of this child's face. — Steven Erikson

Where no light shone from the iron-dark sky, and where a mist obscured the horizon on every side. The ground was bare earth, beaten flat by the pressure of millions of feet, even though those feet had less weight than feathers; so it must have been time that pressed it flat, even though time had been stilled in this place; so it must have been the way things were. This was the end of all places and the last of all worlds. — Philip Pullman

There was no sign of life round the domed emplacement of the Moonraker, and the concrete, already beginning to shimmer in the early morning sun, stretched emptily away towards Deal. It looked like a newly laid aerodome or rather, he thought, with its three disparate concrete 'things', the beehive dome,the flat-iron blast-wall, and the distant cube of the firing point, each casting black pools of shadow towards him in the early sun, like a Dali desert landscape in which three objets trouves reposed at carefully calculated random. — Ian Fleming

Then his gaze shifted to the wild bush sprouting from her head. "Wow. Did I do that to your hair?" He looked oddly pleased at the thought.
Rylann made a mental note to throw a flat iron in her purse the next time she had sex in the shower with a billionaire ex-con. Not that there was
going to be a next time. "Not all of us are lucky enough to have freakishly perfect, shampoo-commercial hair. This is what happens when I get wet."
His expression turned wicked. "I know exactly what happens when you get wet, counselor."
Yep, she'd walked right into that one. — Julie James

I have a scar on my forehead and the bangs were an attempt to cover that. Life sort of pushed a hair change on me, which has actually been really fun to play with. It does add a little bit of maintenance, but I have a teeny-tiny flat iron that I bought on Amazon for $20 and that has been my lifesaver. Even if all I do to get out the door is flat iron my bangs, I feel like I'm good to go. — Danielle Panabaker

I ached for him, my stomach twisting painfully. He looked so desolate standing there alone facing a mad queen and several thousand angry fey. His voice was flat and resigned, as if he'd been pushed into a corner and had given up, not caring what happened next. — Julie Kagawa

Now Lewis joined in. 'A sicko walks into a bar,' he said. 'WHAM! And then i hit him with the bar again, an iron bar, and knock him flat, then i hit him again, and again and again until his brains are, like, smashed all over the pavement. And then i slice him up with my new katana!'
'Yeah, Lewis,' said Brooke. 'Funny joke. Way to lighten the mood, bruv. — Charlie Higson

It should have been the Arabian Nights, but to Bond, seeing it first above the tops of trams and above the great scars of modern advertising along the river frontage, it seemed a once beautiful theatre-set that modern Turkey had thrown aside in favour of the steel and concrete flat-iron of the Istanbul-Hilton Hotel, blankly glittering behind him on the heights of Pera. — Ian Fleming

Once I accepted the fact that I was bad luck, I shied away from group activities. And groups. And activities. I started spending a lot of time in my room, tucked under my covers reading books. There's only so much damage a book can do, and I wasn't worried about hurting myself. Accidentally hurting yourself is way better than hurting other people.
Sure, I got lonely for a while. But getting invited to slumber parties just wasn't worth the stress of wondering if I might accidentally burn down the house with my flat iron or be the only survivor of a freak sleepover massacre. And loneliness is just like everything else - if you endure it long enough, you get used to it. — Paula Stokes

Almost every day, someone asks if I ever flat iron my hair. I say, 'No, because I'm afraid it wouldn't look good and wouldn't come back curly.' — Carrot Top