Hair Quotes Quotes & Sayings

Growth of human hair is the absolute blessing for a barber — Munia Khan

With his blond hair, broad shoulders, and perpetual tan,
Bryce looked like a California underwear model. Not that I'd thought about him in his underwear.
Much. — Chris Cannon

I twist and pin my hair at the nape of my neck, and then stand with legs wide. It's what Nash told me to do before speaking because men, no matter how many times they profess women are equal, prefer to take direction from bodies like theirs. — Caroline George

I drift through forests in my dreams, I swim the lake I imagine for myself when I'm sad. It's so blue and clear. I scoop some water into my hands as I tread water and I can see right through it, almost as if it's air. Tiny, luminescent fish live at the bottom of the pool and wink at me as I swim naked and free above them, my hair spilling out around me. — Sarah Michelle Lynch

He was by far the fiercest, most ruggedly handsome, yet, formidable man she had ever laid eyes on. She couldn't stop staring at him. He had dark brown hair which skimmed his shoulders, a short-haired beard around his lips and chin, and gorgeous greenish-blue eyes that reminded her of the sea. There was something dangerously wicked about the look of his face, and she half expected him to yell for his men to batten down the hatches or swab the deck. — Madison Thorne Grey

She was walking toward the beauty shop when Shay came out the door moving fast. The first thing Jill noticed was Shay's hair and how it appeared really big. As Shay drew closer, Jill realized she looked like she was wearing a mask with big blue streaks over the eyes and giant red pouty lips. "What happened to you?" Jill asked in shock. "I'm not sure," Shay said, looking just as stunned. "One minute, I was reading a magazine, and the next, two women that looked like Dolly Parton descended on me like vultures. They started putting stuff on my face, then they did all kinds of things to my hair." Anne walked out of the shop next; her Napoleon hat 'do rode higher than ever. Ella followed with her little red hair ball reinflated. "Doesn't Shay just look beautiful?" Ella chirped. She looked like a hooker who'd just survived a wind tunnel, but Jill nodded and tried to smile. — Robin Alexander

Oh my dear from a distant fantasy land! I love to be in your dreams as a fairy of love with wings of flowers and golden glowing flowing hair. — Debasish Mridha

I wake up.
Immediately I have to figure out who I am. It's not just the body - opening my eyes and discovering whether the skin on my arm is light or dark, whether my hair is long or short, whether I'm fat or thin, boy or girl, scarred or smooth. The body is the easiest thing to adjust to, if you're used to waking up in a new one each morning. It's the life, the context of the body, that can be hard to grasp.
Every day I am someone else. I am myself - I know I am myself - but I am also someone else.
It has always been like this. — David Levithan

He was a self-righteous know-it-all who had the breath of a dung beetle, a gray ponytail he barely pulled together from the bozo ring of hair clinging to his balding, freckled dome, and loved to drink, of all things, tea. Usually it was some sickly sweet-smelling herbal crap that was made in the hippie wasteland of Boulder, Colorado. The box was festooned with the image of a happy, dancing bear in a field of multicolored flowers and the tea had some idiotic name like Tai Chai. After work one evening, I snatched the box of tea bags from the break room and changed the recipe. I wasn't really worried that any other employees would use one of the tea bags because NO ONE DRINKS FUCKING TEA AT WORK, especially not the totally useless, noncaffeinated fairy tears reserved for old maids to sip while they watch Murder, She Wrote in bed with their legion of cats. — Shane Kuhn

Gunner shook his head; he wasn't in the mood. He stared down at his bottle as he spoke. "Yeah, and what if I do go after it and what if I find no one, and I'm alone for the next sixty years? What then? Huh? Friends and family will get married. I'll be stuck buying gifts. Years pass: children, birthday parties. At dinner parties, I'll be odd man out, forcing people to arrange five chairs around a table instead of four or six. Or, okay, let's say maybe twenty years down the line I meet someone nice and I've already given up on ever finding true love. Let's say the girl is a few pounds overweight, has fizzy hair and an annoying laugh, but at this point, I'm also a few pounds overweight and my hair is thinning and my laughter is annoying. Maybe then the two of us get married, and both our groups of friends will say, 'See I told you that you'd find true love. It just took a while.' And we'll smile, but we'll both know it's a lie-- — Michael Anthony

be the kiss in my hair
that no one sees

move, when i move
sigh, when i sigh...

be that line from a poem
that i hold in my eyes. — Sanober Khan

HYMN OF THE DIVINE DANDELION

I am born as the sun,
But then turn into the moon,
As my blonde hairs turn
Grayish-white and fall
To the ground,
Only to be buried again,
Then to be born again,
Into a thousand suns
And a thousand
Moons.

Suzy Kassem — Suzy Kassem

Did you really mean what you said?" she asked softly. "If God Himself were waiting at Gloucester, you would not relinquish me?" He did not meet her gaze, but the muscles in his arms bunched beneath her hands as he pulled her close again. "I meant it, he whispered, burying his lips in her hair. — Marsha Canham

The thing about love is one can never define it exactly. And as much of a mystery as that is and as familiar it is when we acknowledge it, words just aren't enough. So we find ourselves scratching the walls while our hair is falling out. Then we can't live without it. We become addicts. — Kevin Fuller

Unable to keep myself from temptation any longer, I reached up and ran my hand through his hair, which as much as he tried, never looked anything other than curly. I further melted into him when he started stroking my arm. Up and down, repeatedly, in sweet sensual delight. I tried to steady my breathing by taking deep, measured breaths. I refused to let him know just how much his touch was effectual and tantalizing. — Rose Ann Bridges

Sitting on couch, lying legs apart
Dark dirty naked. Smiling at me,
Wicked lazy lusty eyes. I moaned,
When saw movement inside his silent,
The thick forest of pubic hair. — Delicious David

They didn't exchange a single word. But in the weeks that followed, Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in sensible school shoes, she shuffled as though barefoot, and the baggy apparel Mrs. Lisbon bought for her only increased her appeal, as though after undressing she had put on whatever was handy. In corduroys her thighs rubbed together, buzzing, and there was always at least one untidy marvel to unravel him: an untucked shirttail, a sock with a hole, a ripped seam showing underarm hair. She carted her books from class to class but never opened them. Her pens and pencils were as temporary as Cinderella's broom. When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one. — Jeffrey Eugenides

Hi, I'm Bub Richards." He extended his hand in greeting. I didn't extend mine back. I was floored that he just plopped down like he was invited. He wasn't a bad looking man, with soft blue eyes, chestnut wavy hair and baby face, but he had an awful lot of gall.
"I'm leaving, nice to meet you, Bub," I said as I stood up. — Elle Klass

Love
Later when her breath caught pace and became irregular, I looked for a level place. Sofa. Carpet or Bed? Yes bed. The bed was waiting for us since times..I lifted her STIMULATED TENDERNESS up in my arms and took her to stone age. To be one with her. To race with her. On the way of desires. In the transition, she lifted herself up and kissed me, her arms looped around me, her hair suspended in the air. — Jamaluddin Jamali

He roars laughing as he raises our conjoined hands to his lips. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"
"About ten thousand times." I smile.
"Get used to it, Alma Sadie," he says, tucking an errant strand of hair back into my elegantly coiffed chignon. "Because I'll never tire of telling you. — Siobhan Davis

I would take them a few times, feel my emotions and sense of reality fuzz, and look at my mother who had been doped up on them since we moved to Chattanooga. I would see her blank, hazel eyes, and her bright, but empty, smile with chronic, artificial, exaggerated cheer, and become scared. I often wondered if she was buried under layers upon layers of southern sugar. I would make bitchy, inappropriate statements and look for her. I would say something, anything to shake her and look into her eyes for something real. I saw it when she was upset or afraid. I saw it when she'd spot me exiting my bathroom, hair tied back, knowing what I'd done. I saw it when she found out I was raped. I saw it when I told her about the drugs I used. I saw flickers of a real person, but she quickly disappeared within herself once she gathered composure. I decided not to be like her. Even if it meant embracing my demons, I wanted to be real. After a couple doses, I would toss the meds in the garbage. — Maggie Young

I recall that day on the beach - the sand so brilliant, the clouds so massive, and the wind punishing your hair ... — John Geddes

But men and women are different in the way that they feel loved. Men like to be admired for what they do, for their integrity and their accomplishments, whether it's at work or at the gym or mowing the lawn, because it makes them feel manly. When a woman tells a man that she is proud of him, or she tells him that he did a good job, he'll about bend over backwards to take care of her and love her."
"But women like attention from men, because it makes them feel feminine and adored. That's why they're always fixin' themselves up, doing their hair, wearing pretty clothes and makeup and jewelry and perfume. It's all to attract your attention, you know." (Thelma Jenkins) — Carol McCormick

Her hands crept around his neck, tangling in his hair to keep him closer, even though she knew that beautiful boys with expiration dates couldn't be held, only borrowed for a time. — Martina Boone

His heart pounding with fear and elation, and his head humming with the fierce certainty of a sure thing, he kissed her. She responded as though for her too a certainty had proved out, and in the midst of her hair and lips and long arms encircling him, Smoky added a treasure of great price to the small store of his wisdom. — John Crowley

Soft moonlight touches my lips and cheeks,
I feel your soul dance in my heart.
Breeze of the Southern sea blows my hair,
I feel your love touch my flowers of desire,
In my garden roses dance with the kindness of air.
I feel my soul wanting her bliss to share. — Debasish Mridha

Natural Hair is an Exquisite Crown. It's a wonder and fascination to many. But to the confident Black girl or Black woman who's rockin' it, they know what they've been born and blessed with. A head full of unique, healthy beauty. NATURAL BEAUTY. — Stephanie Lahart

Leaves will fall, cold will creep in
A circle of life that ends where it begins
It may take a thousand years and a thousand poems penned
But my hair will someday gray and my back will bend
Then my shadow will join my body in the earth once again.
I know not the way, or even the when
Or who chooses that day we're called away to ascend
But you bathed me in your bravery and forgave me my sins
You made a home in your heart for mine to live in
And in return, my friend, this poem is my oath that a river of love will run through it until the very end. — Ryan Winfield

His days passed like this, slow and methodical. And then one morning he saw her. She had brown hair and blue eyes and red shoes and a big yellow clasp in her hair.
And then there was no more peace and quiet for Ove. — Fredrik Backman

I think that if you have a horse, pegasus, qilin, or unicorn, you should sit on it! You should stroke its hair, whisper in its ear, be one with it! And you shouldn't feel sorry if other people don't have one. — C. JoyBell C.

True beauty is not related to what color your hair is or what color your eyes are. True beauty is about who you are as a human being, your principles, your moral compass. — Ellen DeGeneres

I had to be the world's biggest loser, writing about hair, and stuff about my body. No wonder I stopped keeping a journal. It was like keeping a record of my own stupidity. Why would I want to do that? — Benjamin Alire Saenz

Now, his hair is white and he no longer understands anyone's need to love, for he has lost everything, not to love, but to his games of love; and when you love as a game, you lose everything, as he lost his home and wife, and now he clings to me, afraid of loss, afraid of solitude. — Anais Nin

I leave her to chemically combust and find Wren in the student council office, filling out extremely interesting paperwork. He's buried behind piles of the stuff. I can barely see tufts of his blonde hair poking out. I reach into the paperwork pile and shove the two halves aside. Hundreds of them fall off the desk and to the floor. Papers drift through the air like snowflakes. Fat, boring-ass snowflakes. Wren looks up, face slack with shock.
"Whatcha doing?" I ask.
"Dividing up funding for the other clubs," He whispers, clearly distraught. A paper plops onto his head and slides off dejectedly. I'm respectful for three seconds.
"So anyway, I had this nightmare in which Jack was sexy and Kayla died. — Sara Wolf

I want you to know that life will try to crack you like an egg and your silence will eventually break. Someday you will spill some of those painful secrets and taste a modicum of much-needed freedom. You will lose a great deal as a result but the gains will outweigh every loss. You will love and be loved by a beautiful man in a place where your mutual passion won't be a marker of shame but pride. You will be awkward and alone and alien for a long time but you will transform these qualities, which is to say yourself, into a work of art. You will wear your awkwardness, your aloneness and your alienness in your hair like gold thread. You will adorn your wonkiness on your wrist like a charm bracelet studded with stars. — Diriye Osman

He stood there watching for a moment, not able to move. Even with her mascara running down her face and her hair beginning to frizz, she was still by far the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on. It was quite simple, wasn't it? This great affection he had for Olivia was so overwhelming he chose to walk away instead of being brutally honest with himself. — Maria La Serra

After every rainfall there's a rainbow because rainbows are a promise. A promise that there will always be a light in the darkness. That's why they are too beautiful to overlook.' His hand crept along my cheek, brushing away the fallen strands of my hair. The same strange look came over him, as if he wasn't present at all, but somewhere else, in a strange memory. "You, Norah, are our light."
I swallowed hard. "Where's the darkness?"
His eyes were trained, like he was under a spell, unable to move away or stop looking at me. "Where you aren't. — Angela Parkhurst

Women in love are pathetic
and I cannot be bothered, for now,
I am back to metaphysics
and my armpits gather hair. — Mie Hansson

If you want to identify me," he says to the British officers who are questioning him, "ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I think I am living for, in detail, and ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for. Between these two answers you can determine the identity of any person." page 25 in the book called, "The Man in the Sycamore Tree by Edward Rice — Thomas Merton

His fingers slide into my hair, and I hold on to his arms to stay steady as we press together like two blades at a stalemate. He is stronger than anyone I know, and warmer than anyone else realizes; he is a secret that I have kept, and will keep for the rest of my life. — Veronica Roth

In a
few hours, she'll see Anna for herself. She'll see
her dressed in blood, her hair floating like it's
suspended in water, eyes black and shining. And
when she does, she won't be able to catch her
breath. — Kendare Blake

When I arrived back at Intro to Basic Art again later that week, I thought for a moment we had a new student who didn't know about the assigned seats. Sitting at my table was a girl in a long flowered dress, very vintage-hippie. She actually was wearing real flowers in her hair, and hardly any make up. I sat down, ready to explain to this poor lost soul that the seat was already taken, when I looked again and realized it was the same girl. I ended up not saying anything at all; I couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be rude or just plain stupid. — J.M. Richards

Watch, how the sun
slowly rises
from behind my ear

new lines, new countries
spring up in my palms

my rough hair
become swaying silk

and all the leaves
in my body
become lusher than fruits. — Sanober Khan

You don't need a long beard to be a sage;
you need to be teachable.
You don't need gray hair to be wise;
you need to be sensible. — Matshona Dhliwayo

You want to hear something really sad?' I whisper. 'You're my best friend.'
'You're right. That is really sad.' Oliver grins.
'That's not what I meant.'
'Are we still playing True Confessions?' he asks.
'Is that what we're doing?'
He reaches toward me and rubs a strand of my hair between his fingers. 'I think you're beautiful,' Oliver says. 'Inside and out.'
He leans forward from the tiniest bit and breathes in, closing his eyes, before he lets the hair fall back against my cheek. I feel it inside me, as if I've been shocked.
I don't pull away.
I don't want to pull away.
'I ... I don't know what to say,' I stammer.
Oliver's eyes light up. 'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walk into mine,' he quotes. He moves slowly, so that I know what's coming, and kisses me. — Jodi Picoult

Among the top ten things I've learned in life: when your hair stylist is having a bad day, reschedule. — P.M. Terrell

You've never heard of bagpipes?" Cody asked, sounding aghast. "They're as Scottish as kilts and red armpit hair!"
"Um . . . yuck?" I said.
"That's it." Cody said. "Steelheart has to fall so we can get back to educating children properly. This is an offense against the dignity of my motherland."
"Great," Prof said. "I'm glad we now have proper motivation. — Brandon Sanderson

Travis watched me pull hair away from my face and then walked to the door, holding it open.
'I wouldn't let anything happen to you, Pigeon. — Jamie McGuire

That overzealous new natural is not intentionally trying to cause you pain. She just lovingly wants her sister to know the freedom of accepting, loving and nurturing her natural hair texture. Once that level of freedom is achieved, one can truly know that we are not our hair. — Monica Millner

Lost love is still love, Eddie. It just takes a different form, that's all. You can't hold their hand... You can't tousle their hair... But when those senses weaken another one comes to life... Memory... Memory becomes your partner. You hold it... you dance with it... Life has to end, Eddie... Love doesn't. — Mitch Albom

One thing that creates difference between pilgrims of life as they journey along the various paths of life is their head. It makes some fall, others rest and some pursue to the farther.
The reason for the difference is not the size, shape, hair color or the style of their head but what is within their head, what fills their mind, what enters their ears; what their eyes look and see, what their ears hear and listen to; make some champions of life and others wanders of life. — Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

I love you," he murmured into my hair. "You are my night and stars, the fate I would fix myself to in any life. — Roshani Chokshi

How bad could things be if my hair was neat? — Jeff Lindsay

Her red hair seemed to turn into flames of fire, and smoke billowed through each ear. — Elle Klass

Desi has loved me ever since the lie, I know he pictures making love to me, how gentle and reassuring he would be as he plunged into me, stroking my hair. I know he pictures me crying softly as I give myself to him. — Gillian Flynn

I wish we had met away from all these battles. I wish we had met in a land of peace without social classes and with no conflicts. I wish we had met in prehistoric times wearing cranberry leaves. I wish we had met when there were no disagreements about our bodies and no doctrinal differences. I wish we had met when the veil was not an issue and when there were no shaving blades, no hair colors and no perfumes to hide your natural smell. I wish we have met when there were no shoes to coerce our steps, no fashion and socks brands to put each of us in a certain social class. I wish we have met when there were no cars and no traffic. I wish we have met when there were no battles to be forced to see you as an unarmed knight with the heresy of currencies. — Jihad Eltabey

(Kate) had found multiple titles by individual authors scattered willy-nilly through the collection. It made her want to pull her hair out. Obviously!- an individual author's body of work all belonged on one shelf, the works arranged, in turn, by whatever system was most suitable: by volume number, alphabetically by title, or by the year of publication, or, in case of playwrights, works grouped by genre- tragedies with tragedies, comedies with comedies, histories with histories, and so on. — Gaelen Foley

The obvious thing to say of his appearance was that he would have been extremely handsome if he had not been entirely bald. But, indeed, that would itself be a rather bald way of putting it. Fantastic as it sounds, it would fit the case better to say that people would have been surprised to see hair growing on him; as surprised as if they had found hair growing on the bust of a Roman emperor. — G.K. Chesterton

On our way home we throw the apples, the biscuits, the chocolate and the coins in the tall grass by the roadside. It is impossible to throw away the stroking on our hair — Agota Kristof

Do not open that door until I'm in my room. I may be old and losing my hair, but I still want to look nice for a handsome man. — Rachel Hauck

Some days you live in pajamas, and your hair kind-of has that Albert Einstein look. — A.D. Posey

Look, moon
I turned silver for you. — Sanober Khan

Sometimes being a MOM is like a good
ol' country song! You lose your sleep, you lose your hair, you lose your patience, you lose your energy, you lose your memory AND you lose your SANITY! But you DO IT all for LOVE! — Tanya Masse

His son Peter Bucky happily spent time driving Einstein around, and he later wrote down some of his recollections in extensive notebooks. They provide a delightful picture of the mildly eccentric but deeply un-affected Einstein in his later years. Peter tells, for example, of driving in his convertible with Einstein when it suddenly started to rain. Einstein pulled off his hat and put it under his coat. When Peter looked quizzical, Einstein explained: "You see, my hair has withstood water many times before, but I don't know how many times my hat can. — Walter Isaacson

Brushing a girl's hair
behind her ear
once a day
will solve more problems
than all those
therapists
and drugs. — Atticus Poetry

She's dumber than a box of hair. — Bink Cummings

What is it that makes us who we are and what we are? Is it only our blood, the color of our hair, our skin, and our eyes? Or is it believing in what we believe and living the way we live? — Aleksandra Layland

Every day for a week, sitting in my idling car, saying goodbye without saying anything at all - the touch of his hand, his forehead pressed to mine, the way he brushed my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. And still, he hadn't kissed me. Not once. Nothing but that brief brush of his lips. I was beginning to go a little crazy. — Emme Rollins

Is it atikraman [Hurtful karma] if we eat, cut our hair or brush our teeth? No, it is not like that. Anger-pride-deceit-greed is considered atikraman [Hurtful karma]. If you do pratikraman [Ask for forgiveness], they will all go away. — Dada Bhagwan

In a flash, the previously lusty green irises morphed into an angry blood red. Nadua stood with a gasp, not sure what was happening to him. The horns that peeked out of his sandy brown hair began to alter their color as well, taking on the cast of burning embers. Razor-sharp fangs peeked out from his lips, twisted in rage. This was how he had looked when he was tearing through her men. — Kiersten Fay

The theatre is a machine of transformations: everything is transformed into another thing; a bald man has thick hair on his head; a man with strong legs gains a limp and a sharp-eyed person becomes blind; an actor who is an atheist immediately turns into the most pious priest on earth! ~ — Mehmet Murat Ildan

He's as tense as I am, maybe even more so, but it's so hard to reconcile that with the serenity of weightlessness. His faux-blond hair is floating out away from his head. He's wearing a worn, much-mended, and too-large shirt his friend in town must've found for him to help him blend in. He looks nothing like the Romeo who dragged me off the base, nothing like the Cormac who threw himself between his own people and me. It's like that guy's gone, and I killed him. — Amie Kaufman

Strands of your hair and tendrils of the wind spin into nothingness the memories of that day ... — John Geddes

You have family, only a brother you clearly don't like to speak about. Fine. That's all right." She ran her fingers through her hair. "But don't ever say dreams are a waste. It's a miracle I can still speak of dreams and futures after all I've been through. There's love in this world, Thristan, love that can encompass the heart abiding in humans' mortal, fragile bodies. And there are stupid little humans like me, dreamers, who believe one day they'll find it. — Madison Thorne Grey

I do wonder why people hate their grey hair so much! I think grey hair is a gift from the moon! When the moon laughs, her eyes produce tears of joy that fall to the earth and onto the tops of people's heads! — C. JoyBell C.

Breslin gives me his wise-teacher smile, which is kind and crinkly and would make me feel warm all over if I was dumber than a bag of hair. — Tana French

I respond to many names.
Sometimes I am different people.
Sometimes I am the me that howls in
the night.
Sometimes I am the sickening silence.
I wear moonlight in my hair and bare
my teeth. — Jessica Bates

Flynn's reaction is electric, for all he only moves an inch, straightening, gazed fixed on the sky overhead. Though his eyes are on the clouds, I can't help but watch his silhouette in the darkness. The way his mouth is set, the hope and determination there - the strength of his shoulders, the energy in the way he gazes skyward. The breeze stirs his hair, and I find myself transfixed. — Amie Kaufman

She found her view stuck to him, and it was impossible for her not to melt from within. His beautiful dark brown eyes that used to send her wild as a teen, still had the same effect. His dark unruly hair she used to toy with. And his lips, pink, and in need of her kiss. She was blushing like a beacon with so many passions coming back to her. There was a doubt, that maybe he would recognise her. But now, she could see what an empty man he was. He didn't recognise her at all. — LeeAnn Whitaker

For a moment, he rested his hand on the pitchfork, breath ragged. Strands of hair escaped the ponytail and fell over his eyes, making him look wild, untamed. He'd changed so much from that quiet boy. He'd had to, growing up with monsters as playmates. — Megan Shepherd

Are you conscious of the scent or odour emanating from your mouth, arm pits, stockings or elsewhere? Are you friendly to your environment? Is your dressing, hair style and make up in line with your defined mission and values? How can you start managing your image and brand for a consistently good impression all the time? Does your image reflect your aspirations? — Archibald Marwizi

It was dark, so I couldn't make out much of her face, but she had brilliant red hair, like honey and roses and the sun altogether. — Kiera Cass

The only people for me are the ones who spill things, the ones who drop their cups sometimes, the ones who get dirty hands and messy hair, the ones who can go barefoot if they feel like it, the people who forget things, and can laugh at themselves every day ... — C. JoyBell C.

You really are a pain in the ass," he laughs. I swat him playfully, laughing too as a single tear rolls down my cheek. He wipes it away and tucks my hair behind my ear, "But you're my pain in the ass. — Kandi Steiner

People will be jealous of you for anything. Do bad and they will be jealous of you for being bad, do good and they will be jealous of you for being good, pull yourself up out of the ashes and they will be jealous of your strength, work hard and succeed and they will be jealous of your perseverance, buy new shoes and people will want to steal them, grow your hair long and people with want to cut it, laugh out loud and people will be jealous of your reasons for laughing. The truth is that envy is not because of you; but envy is in the eye of the beholder! — C. JoyBell C.

Not only did
I love her,
but I could tell
the universe loved
her, too.
More than others.
She was different.
After all; I would
be a fool not to
notice the way the
sunshine played with
her hair. — Christopher Poindexter

Black hair spilling, blue eyes piercing. Enchanted by the lies that he was singing. — Sara Secora

As he farmed, hard labor left his hands callused, the sun bleached his hair, his face leathered, and his heart throbbed with music. — Brenda Sutton Rose

He laid his head on Reid's shoulder and shut his eyes, buoyed toward sleep by the affectionate comb of fingers through his hair. He could stay just so, and be content for all his days. — Tamara Allen