Hair Texture Quotes & Sayings

We have inherited a great music. This music is a holdover. It comes with us like the skin, the texture of our hair. It's our memory banks. — Abbey Lincoln

If you take your time about things, you end up with the best at the end of the day." He buried his face in her hair, wanting the scent and the texture. "Now, I've got the best. Good, solid stoneware. — Nora Roberts

It was as if she had grown, changed, overnight; her hair was different, her eyes; the shade and texture of her flesh, her limbs; and, most disconcerting and delightful of all, she was beginning to speak. She increasingly talked back to him when he murmured to her, and he understood that she was becoming what she was destined to become, when he first held her in the open air of the world: her own person, her own independent and particular self. He marveled at it all. And what would she grow up to be like? What was inside her, already formed, that would draw forth with time, and what was it that she most needed him to teach her? Would she be amenable to his help, his advice in worldly matters? And what advice did he have to give her? — Amanda Coplin

When I was younger, I went through a phase when I didn't like my hair. Because the school I went to was primarily Caucasian, there wasn't anyone who had my hair texture. I remember one day I straightened my hair, and that was the first day that people gave me compliments on it. — Zendaya

Volume in your hair is sexy, and it doesn't necessarily have to be that Brigitte Bardot kind of volume - it's just that nice texture up top that gives it some life and body to it. — Chrissy Teigen

I am inspired by anything beautiful. Sometime it's a pair of eyes or flowing gorgeous hair, other times it's the sky or a sunset. I've been inspired by supple skin or the texture of a soft shirt. — Nadine Velazquez

Polly Jean, I love you. I love the texture of your skin, the taste of your saliva, the softness of your ears. I love every inch and every part of your entire body. From your toes and the beautifully curved arches of your feet, to the exceptional shade and warmth of your dark hair. I need you in my life, I hope you need me too. — Nick Cave

Race is a lie built on a lie. The first lie is that people are different, somehow skin color or hair texture is more significant than eye color, or the shape of one's feet. The second lie built on top of that is that there's a hierarchy that more significant difference, the color showing up as brown on your skin rather than brown in your hair, or whatever, is somehow more significant and there's some sort of hierarchy. That the lighter you are, the straighter your hair, the better you are. — Benjamin Jealous

For styling, I don't like a lot of mousse. I do use Sally Hershberger's Texture Blast, which is like a hair spray, but just at the roots. I have really good hair, and I don't like to plaster it. — Martha Stewart

She fought the urge to take a closer look at his ruggedly handsome features, but failed. How could he have gotten better looking after being abused by every bronc-busting horse on the rodeo circuit? His angular jaw, strong and determined, was shaded with beard growth that was probably a day old, maybe more. Mandy suspected if Beau grew a full beard, it would grow in thick and be the smooth texture of his almost black head of hair. She forced aside past memories that gave her such knowledge with renewed irritation. — Lisa Mondello

I'm obsessed with textures. We're surrounded by so much vinyl that I find myself constantly in pursuit of other textures. One time I removed all the hair from a mouse with Nair-Hair just to see what it looked like. And it looked beautiful. — David

Everything changes. The leaves, the weather, the colour of your hair, the texture of your skin. The feelings you have today - whether they kill you or enthrall you - won't be the same tomorrow, so let go. Celebrate. Enjoy. Nothing lasts, except your decision to celebrate everything, everyone, for the beauty that is there within each moment, each smile, each impermanent flicker of infinity. — Vironika Tugaleva

You must understand the texture of your hair before you choose a style. — Jaclyn Smith

I always use dry shampoo, even if my hair isn't oily. It gives me so much texture and that bedhead vibe. — Bethany Mota

Race doesn't exist.
Skin color exists. Hair and eye color are real. Body type varies from individual to individual, as does tooth shape and color, the form of fingernails, and the amount and texture of body hair. But 'race' is a phantom conjured up by people no different from each other than purebred Cocker spaniels are. Race is a lie, and the people who conjure by it, no matter their color or their politics, are liars. — Holly Lisle

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

My hair was so overprocessed that after it was shampooed, it was like a dry brillo pad. I'd almost say it was the texture of pubic hair, but pubic hair is softer and has more body. — Lonnice Brittenum Bonner

We get to the front door and I lean back against it. "Thank you," I repeat.
"You'd have done the same for me." Jase puts his thumb under my chin and tips it up. "It's nothing."
"Well, except that I can't drive, and you never would have gotten yourself into that situation and
"
"Shhh." He pulls on my lower lip gently with his teeth, then fits his mouth to mine. First so careful, and then so deep and deliberate, that I can't think of anything at all but his smooth back under my hands. My fingers travel to the springy-soft texture of his hair, and I lose myself in the movement of his lips and his tongue. I'm so glad I'm still alive to feel all those things. — Huntley Fitzpatrick

WHO TAUGHT YOU TO HATE THE TEXTURE OF YOUR HAIR?
WHO TAUGHT YOU TO HATE THE COLOUR OF YOUR SKIN? ... — Malcolm X

I inspect everything more closely, and there is about every surface - the river, the forest, the bark of the trees, the underbrush between them, even my own skin - there is about it all the unmistakable texture of linen stretched and framed. And this is when I feel the camel's hair brush and the oil paint dabbing tenderly, meticulously, at the space below my navel. — Caitlin R. Kiernan

By making our people in the Western Hemisphere hate Africa, we ended up hating ourselves. We hated our African characteristics. We hated our African identity. We hated our African features. So much so that you would find those of us in the West who would hate the shape of our nose. We would hate the shape of our lips. We would hate the color of our skin and the texture of our hair. This was a reaction, but we didn't realize that it was a reaction. — Malcolm X

Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight. — Li-Young Lee

Symbolic of life, hair bolts from our head[s]. Like the earth, it can be harvested, but it will rise again. We can change its color and texture when the mood strikes us, but in time it will return to its original form, just as Nature will in time turn our precisely laid-out cities into a weed-way. — Diane Ackerman

My natural hair texture is very kinky. — Tyra Banks

If you look at me close enough, there's a small resemblance to a chicken nugget. I don't know if it's my skin texture or my hair, but the resemblance is definitely there. — Kevin Hart

Although skin color is undoubtedly the most salient signal of racial identity in America, other actual or imagined bodily features have also been seen as distinctive markers of Negritude. These include the shapes of heads, feet, lips, and noses as well as the texture of hair. — Randall Kennedy

She was a tall and slender woman, possibly in her early thirties. Her skin had the extraordinary fineness of grain, and the translucence you see in small children and fashion models. In her fine long hands, delicacy of wrists, floating texture of dark hair, and in the mobility of the long narrow sensitive structuring of her face there was the look of something almost too well made, too highly bred, too finely drawn for all the natural crudities of human existence. Her eyes were large and very dark and tilted and set widely. She wore dark Bermuda shorts and sandals and a crisp blue and white blouse, no jewelry of any kind, a sparing touch of lipstick. — John D. MacDonald

Ewan started with Dev's balls, licking and nuzzling them, feeling the texture of Dev's skin and hair against his lips and tongue. Of course he got a pube stuck somewhere in his mouth. He tried to ignore it at first, but he worried it was going to end up in his throat. "Sorry, hang on a sec." Ewan pulled away and reached into his mouth with a finger to catch the hair lodged somewhere on the roof of his mouth. "There. Got it!" "Is — Jay Northcote

My hair is like flat baby hair after I wash it, so it needs something in it to get that 'day after' texture. — Suki Waterhouse

I was following a phantom in my mind, whose shadowy form had taken shape at last. Her features were blurred, her coloring indistinct, the setting of her eyes and the texture of her hair was still uncertain, still to be revealed.
She had beauty that endured, and a smile that was not forgotten. Somewhere her voice still lingered, and the memory of her words. — Daphne Du Maurier

Reera did not keep them in misery more than a few seconds, for she touched each one with her right hand and instantly the fishes were transformed into three tall and slender young women, with fine, intelligent faces and clothed in handsome, clinging gowns. The one who had been a goldfish had beautiful golden hair and blue eyes and was exceedingly fair of skin; the one who had been a bronzefish had dark brown hair and clear gray eyes and her complexion matched these lovely features. The one who had been a silverfish had snow-white hair of the finest texture and deep brown eyes. The hair contrasted exquisitely with her pink cheeks and ruby-red lips, nor did it make her look a day older than her two companions. — L. Frank Baum

I didn't cry out and I didn't weep when I was told that my son Henri was a prisoner in his own world, when it was confirmed that he is one of those children who don't hear us, don't speak to us, even though they're neither deaf nor mute. He is also one of those children we must love from a distance, neither touching, nor kissing, not smiling at them because every one of their senses would be assaulted by the odour of our skin, by the intensity of our voices, the texture of our hair, the throbbing of our hearts. Probably he'll never call me maman lovingly, even if he can pronounce the world poire with all the roundness and sensuality of the oi sound. He will never understand why I cried when he smiled for the first time. He won't know that, thanks to him, every spark of joy has become a blessing and that I will keep waging war against autism, even if I know already that it's invincible. Already, I am defeated, stripped bare, beaten down. — Kim Thuy

No, you love to confuse me and drive me crazy. You don't really love me. You don't know what love is."
"Yeah, I think I do." His brows lowered, and he took a step toward her. "I have loved you my whole life, Delaney. I can't remember a day when I didn't love you. I loved you the day I practically knocked you out with a snowball. I loved you when I flattened the tires on your bike so I could walk you home. I loved you when I saw you hiding behind the sunglasses at the Value Rite, and I loved you when you loved that loser son of a bitch Tommy Markham. I never forgot the smell of your hair or the texture of your skin the night I laid you on the hood of my car at Angel Beach. So don't tell me I don't love you. Don't tell me
" His voice shook and he pointed a finger at her. "Just don't tell me that. — Rachel Gibson