Quotes & Sayings About Letting Your Hair Down

I really need to remember to block my thoughts."
"Oh, come on," he pulled me closer towards him. "Why are you so scared?"
"Because the second that I let this conversation happen, I'll be letting my walls down. No matter what answer you give me, you'll have some sort of power over me, and I don't want that." I pushed past him, plopping down on the bed, not bothering to remove my boots.
I could feel the mattress sink beside me. Ian ran his fingers through my hair. "Come here," he spoke softly. "Please." I pushed myself into a sitting position, and moved closer to him, leaning my head on Ian's shoulder. "I like this, a lot. It feels nice." Ian lifted my chin so that I was forced to look directly at him, and then he leaned in to kiss me. — Nicole Sobon

Near my feet is a glowing archway. The light is white and shimmery, like iridescent glitter, and it's so tall the top nearly brushes the ceiling. Inside, instead of seeing the cement wall of the basement, I'm looking at evenly spaced wooden pillars and a reed-mat floor. Standing on that mat is a woman with curves that would make a Playboy model jealous. She's wearing a long, butter yellow dress, and her white hair hangs down to her waist. She looks like an angel when she smiles at me, holding out her hands.
"Hudson, come with me." Her voice reminds me of the breeze rustling through the trees near the lake. Soft and subtle and calming. "Let me help you."
Did I die? Maybe the scratch on my side got infected. Maybe I've been slowly bleeding to death from internal injuries for the past week. Who knows? If this is death, if she's what's waiting for me on the other side, then fuck it. I'm letting go. — Erica Cameron

I love going out dancing. There is nothing better than letting your hair down and staying up far too late, is there? — Liberty Ross

The club thing is a world people can associate with, letting your hair down at the weekend. — Billy Boyd

Tom ran his thumb over the head, circling lightly, unable to resist leaning down to suck the tip into his mouth. Prophet inhaled sharply, threaded his fingers into Tom's hair. He closed his eyes and groaned when Tom stroked in earnest, lifting his hips off the bed in a big cat-like stretch, letting Tom take control of him again. "Think I didn't get enough?" "Think you need sleep." Prophet's eyes opened as he studied Tom's face. "You're going to put me to sleep this way." "Gonna try," Tom told him, his hand pumping Prophet's cock slowly, then faster when the man refused to tear his gaze away. He couldn't read the man's expression, not until his mouth dropped and his eyes glazed. "Yeah, like that." Prophet's voice was hoarse, body tense. His casted hand reached out to hold on to Tom's biceps, the one with the dreamcatcher. Tom caught him staring at it when he came. — S.E. Jakes

Friday is my night for letting my hair down, and once a month a group of my old male friends will come down and stay at our house in Hampshire. — Rupert Penry-Jones

As Tom walked away, every step more awful, Lucy pursued him, arms still outstretched. 'Dadda, wait for Lulu,' she begged, wounded and confused. When she tripped and fell face down on the gravel, letting out a scream, Tom could not go on, and spun around, breaking free of the policeman's grip.
'Lulu!'
He scooped her up and kissed her scratched chin.
'Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,' he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek.
'You're all right, little one. You'll be all right.'
Vernon Knuckey looked at the ground and cleared his throat.
Tom said, 'Sweetheart, I have to go away now. I hope - ' He stopped. He looked into her eyes and he stroked her hair, finally kissing her.
'Goodbye, littlie. — M.L. Stedman

Grace! It's Christmas for goodness sake! Think about the baby Jesus. Up in that tower letting his hair down, so that the three wise men could climb up and spin the dreidel and see if there's six more weeks of winter! — Karen Walker

I think the ears are a strange look for me. Quite big. But I loved the hair down to my shoulders. It felt right. I'm thinking of letting my hair go. — Billy Boyd

I wish I was Rapunzel
Letting down her hair
But at the bottom of my tower
There's nobody stood there.
No prince to carry me off to the sunset ...
The reason why of course,
I don't look like his princess,
I look like his horse. — Rae Earl

I needed to take a break from performing, and from the Peas, to be happy. I craved female time, and time with my husband to feed my soul. My life now is about being balanced. I'm passionate about work and working out, seeing friends and family, and letting my hair down once in a while. — Fergie

Then summer came. A summer limp with the weight of blossomed things. Heavy sunflowers weeping over fences; iris curling and browning at the edges far away from their purple hearts; ears of corn letting their auburn hair wind down to their stalks. AND THE BOYS. The beautiful, beautiful boys who dotted the landscape like jewels, split the air with their shouts in the field, and thickened the river with their shining wet backs. EVEN THEIR FOOTSTEPS LEFT A SMELL OF SMOKE BEHIND! — Toni Morrison

As Leo leaned down to deposit her on the bed, she tightened her grip on him, not letting him pull away. "Kiss me," she demanded.
"I shouldn't."
"Shouldn't didn't stop you earlier this evening."
"Earlier this evening you weren't incapacitated."
"We can work it off. If we take it slow, I'll be fine. Just don't expect me to swing from a chandelier. The last time I did that, the whole ceiling came down," she confided.
"I'd really rather not hear about your sexual exploits," he growled.
A jealous Leo was adorable.
"Oh, I didn't do it for sex. We were playing Tomb Raider. And I would have gotten away with the treasure, too, if the bolts would have held."
"You are something else," he muttered, brushing the hair from her face, his strokes so gentle.
"I'm yours," she muttered as her lashes fluttered shut, her battle with them lost. — Eve Langlais

I shall write Lady Rose a letter, listing your virtues and skills." He reached down and drew up a piece of real paper - much crisper than parchment - and found a reed pen. "Let's see, what shall I say? You are hardheaded ... " "Don't you dare." But this brought a smile to her face that she was obviously trying to suppress. "And terrified of letting anyone see your hair ... " He found his ink and writing board. "You wouldn't say that!" She self-consciously twisted her long hair and then flung it over her shoulder. — Melanie Dickerson

He pulled the knitting away from her, throwing it in the grass, then sank down on his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her lap. He was shaking, she realized, and the tears were pouring down her face, onto him, as she stroked his long, silken hair and cried.
She didn't care what it sounded like - the hiccupping noises, the choking sobs.
Her own body was shaking, racked by the final release, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, holding her so tightly that a weaker woman might break, whispering to her in Japanese, sweet, loving words, letting her cry.
She was a strong woman, and her tears, so long denied, only made her stronger.
His heart was pounding against hers, his hands firm and tender, pushing the hair away from her tear-drenched face. When he kissed her she couldn't breathe, and she didn't care. — Anne Stuart

From my mother came the idea that going down to the sea repaired the spirit. That is where she walked when she was sad or worried or lonely for my father. If she had been crying, she came back composed; if she had left angry with us, she returned in good humor. So we naturally believed that there was a cleansing, purifying effect to be had; that letting the fresh wind blow through you mind and spirits as well as your hair and clothing purged black thoughts; that contemplating the ceaseless motion of the waves calmed a raging spirit. — Robert MacNeil