Miss My Hair Quotes & Sayings

I love you more. I love you enough to let you go and live your dream." I tilted my head and shrugged. "Don't you see ... ? I love you more."
He smiled softly and I brushed some hair off his forehead. Running the backs of my fingers down his cheek, I whispered, "And, yes, I will miss you, more than you could possibly imagine, but I know that you have to do this Kellan. And you know it too."
Stubbornly he shook his head. "No, I know that I have to be with you. Everything else is just ... details. — S.C. Stephens

I finally found him sitting on his balcony. He was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. Soft music played, and a cool ocean breeze blew back my hair as I stepped on to the balcony and inhaled the scent of the sea.
"May I join you?" I asked softly.
He didn't bother opening his eyes. "If you like."
The moon in the dark sky looked like a giant white plate dipping its edge into the ocean. We sat quietly for a while. I closed my eyes too and listened to him hum along in harmony with the music.
"You haven't played your guitar in a long time. I miss it," I said when the song was finished.
Ren turned away. "I fear there is no music left in me. — Colleen Houck

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
I vow, I cannot seem to walk past a window without seeing my great-nephew carrying Miss Balfour somewhere. All great romantic poems have such scenes where the hero, in a fit of passion, sweeps the heroine off her feet. Sadly, it appears that Sin's technique is questionable.
I'm surprised that, with all of his supposed experience with the gentler sex, he doesn't realize that women do not like to be carried in a way that musses their hair and leaves them with unattractively red faces.
Sadly, yet another conversation I shall have to have with that boy. — Karen Hawkins

Going to miss this," he said as he kissed my cheeks, my jaw, my eyelids. "The way you taste." He set his lips to the hollow beneath my ear. "The way you smell." His hands slid up my back. "The way you feel." My breath hitched as his hips settled against mine.
Then he drew back, searching my eyes. "I wanted more for you," he said. "A white veil in your hair. Vows we could keep. — Leigh Bardugo

When Jo's conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a "young lady," Jo shouts, "I'm not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty ... I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China aster! It's bad enough to be a girl anyway, when I like boys' games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman. — Louisa May Alcott

I'm sorry about these two," Mike told the waitress. "Just so you know, I'll be embarrassed with you."
"It's just that we haven't seen each other since summmer camp," Becky said.
"And we'd formed such a bond playing wily tricks on our camp counselors," Felix said.
"Remember how you replaced Miss Pepper's shampoo with liquid Jell-O and turned her hair green?"
"It was sheer genius when you stretched cling film over all the toilet seats."
"Oh." The waitress turned to Mike, as if to address the only sane member of the group. "So, are ya'll ready to eat now, or are you waiting for your date to arrive?"
Mike played with the menu. "Actually, she's my date."
"These are my two husbands," Becky said. "We're from Utah. You know, Mormom. — Shannon Hale

I think about cutting my hair. How nice it would be to wash it, run a quick comb through it, and presto! all set, ready to rock and roll. I sigh. Henry loves my hair almost as though it were a creature unto itself, as though it has a soul to call its own, as though it could love him back. I know he loves it as a part of me, but I also know he would be deeply upset if I cut it off. And I would miss it, too ... it's just so much effort, sometimes I want to take it off like a wig and set it aside while I go out and play. — Audrey Niffenegger

I do miss my hair because I used to do so much stuff with it, but I do like different levels of short. I had a super short pixie before, and I loved it. — Grace Gealey

You look pensive," he said quietly, holding his hand out from where he lay on the bed. He wore only his shirt and breeches. She went to him without protest. Why pretend when they really had so little time left together? He gathered her against him, her back to his front, and began plucking the pins from her coiffure. "Have I told you how much I admire your hair?" "It's just plain brown," she murmured. "Plain, lovely brown," he replied, raising a lock he'd freed to his face. "Are you smelling my hair?" she asked in amusement. "Yes." "Silly man," she said lightly. "Smitten man," he corrected, spreading her hair over her shoulders. "I've been watching you today." "In between escorting Miss Royle about the garden?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Yes. I'd rather it'd been you, but that wouldn't've been prudent." He frowned down at the strands of her hair caught between his fingers. "Or, perhaps, safe. — Elizabeth Hoyt

I miss you Emma."
I'm not sure, but it looks like her eyes tear up. "I was fine for months without you," she says, the words hushed and forlorn. "Why does it hurt now?"
I'm sighing and shoving a hand through my hair, which I know from experience leaves strands of it stabbing out in numerous directions, defiant and crazy-looking. Maybe crazy is exactly how I feel. "Because now we have hope of something more. — Tammara Webber

Miss Taylor says kids that are colored can't go to my school cause they're not smart enough." I come round the counter then. Lift her chin up and smooth back her funny-looking hair. "You think I'm dumb?" "No," she whispers hard, like she means it so much. She look sorry she said it. "What that tell you about Miss Taylor, then?" She blink, like she listening good. "Means Miss Taylor ain't right all the time," I say. She hug me around my neck, say, "You're righter than Miss Taylor." I tear up then. My cup is spilling over. Those is new words to me. — Kathyrn Stockett

I might be a snob, but at least I'm not a hypocrite, still coasting around because I have nothing to do now that my life's dream to fuck and breed for Che Guevara blew up in my face. Nor am I hanging out with rich people in West Kings House who now don't wash their hair and calling themselves I-man to upset their parents, when everybody knows in two years they're going right back to their father's shipping company to take it over, and marry whichever Syrian bitch just win Miss Jamaica. — Marlon James

I got into my very theatrical phase. I wore only black: a big black hat and wild hair and wild black clothes, and I carried a sword stick. I went there still looking like Miss Florida, and I came back looking very different. — Delta Burke

I can still smell you on my pillow. I can still see you standing in my room, the light caressing your smooth legs, your dark hair cascading over your shoulders, and your gorgeous mouth smiling so effortlessly. I miss you. I ache for you, and I'm bordering on crazy without you. Come back to me. — Renee Carlino

I miss my hair, but I feel like going out there with some fake braids wouldn't be right. I want to be the most genuine performer I can be. — Sharon Jones

When I lifted my head, Christian was sending a text message. "Give me that!"
I sprang to my knees and snatched it away. "What the hell did you say?"
"Only that I had you on your back. I made sure to sign my name."
"You idiot!"
I punched his shoulder and he smirked. "In-service massage?"
Silver: It's not what you think, Logan. I'll call you later. Miss u.
"It's your funeral. Logan is a Chitah."
Christian's eyes widened. "You're serious? You? And a Chitah?" He raked his fingers through his hair. "Shite, why didn't you tell me you were dating a fecking lunatic? Those bastards have a thing about hunting you for life. — Dannika Dark

I never think of the life I'll miss after I'm dead, or all that I missed before I was born. It's the time I'm as good as dead during this, my one and only life, that makes me tear at my hair. It seems to me that if I carefully gathered all of the time I was entirely alive I would have amassed perhaps two years of life so far ... — Scott Spencer

She started out of the kitchen, then stopped and put her hand on my shoulder, bending down to kiss me gently on the forehead. She smelled like vanilla and Joy perfume, and suddenly I felt like I might start crying again. "You really scared me, Caitlin," she said, smiling as she brushed her fingers through my hair. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." I could tell her, I told myself. I could tell her right now and fix this. I could say that he hits me and I hate cheerleading and I miss Cass but I know why she left and I wish I could make everything better but I can't, I can't, I can't even tell you where it hurts, not now. "Don't worry," I said instead, as she ruffled my hair and walked away, my mother, to do what she did best, to take care of me. "I'm fine. — Sarah Dessen

I allow myself to not feel the need to be some sort of wonder woman. You can't do everything at once and tear your hair out when you miss your baby using a potty for the first time, although my son was obviously very sad that his mum was not there on his big day. — Catherine Zeta-Jones

I Miss You Outside the sun is shining, and the roses are in bloom. The sky this morning is so lovely, but here I sit in gloom. Outside the birds are singing, but in here, no beauty resides. For my heart is empty, shattered and broken, and will be 'til you're back by my side. Honey, I miss you every morning, and at night when I go to bed. I remember the times you were with me, and all the things that we said. And I miss your touch; the touch that makes me feel so much a man. I miss the smell of your hair, and the softness of your hands. I miss holding you in my arms and feeling your lips on mine. I miss hearing your sweet voice, which sounds so loving and kind. But most of all, I miss your warm tender body next to me as I sleep. I feel so empty when you're not here; I lie awake all night and weep. Because without your love, my life is over and I'll spend the rest of it being blue. So please say you love me and come back; for sweetheart, I miss you. — Kenneth Edward Barnes

Doesn't it blow your mind that God thought of you? You were not a random birth. You were created in the mind of God. He named you and then wrote your name on the palm of His hands. He has counted every hair on your head and collected every tear you have cried ~ that is how precious you are to Him. Remember, this is a soul dance and our partner, our Father, is waltzing us back home. When we stumble ~ we learn how to get up. When we fall off the cliff ~ we learn how to fly. Remember if you're afraid of stumbling you will never get to fall, you will never fly, and oh I tell you, you don't want to miss that adventure, by the way, they are all adventures. So, stumble my child, skin your knees and elbows, let go, let God and when you come to the edge of that cliff....Fall.... — Aleece Walz

I missed the sound of her shuffling her homework while I listened to music on her bed.
I missed the cold of her feet against my legs when she climbed into bed.
I missed the shape of her shadow where it fell across the page of my book.
I missed the smell of her hair and the sound of her breath and my Rilke on her nightstand and her wet towel thrown over the back of her desk chair.
It felt like I should be sated after having a whole day with her, but it just made me miss her more. — Maggie Stiefvater

I do miss the days of living in our boardinghouse when I could practice my lines while experiencing the freedom of trousers without anyone thinking a thing about it." "The only time I saw you wearing trousers was when you were impersonating a coachman," Bram said slowly. "Have you seen her when her hair looks like a rat's nest because she's braided it at least a thousand times while she's distracted with her lines or . . . investments?" Millie asked. To Lucetta's surprise, instead of seeming taken aback by the idea she wasn't always very concerned about her appearance, Bram was watching her now with what looked like clear delight in his eyes. "I'll see what I can do to find you and Millie some trousers, if you really think that will help you mend fences with Geoffrey. — Jen Turano

steps, deep in thought. A breeze was slightly disturbing his hair. Then, as we watched, he walked very slowly up the steps. At the top, he turned and came back down, a little faster. Turning once more, my father became still again for several seconds, contemplating the steps before him. Eventually, he climbed them a second time, very deliberately. This time he continued on across the grass until he had almost reached the summerhouse, then turned and came walking slowly back, his eyes never leaving the ground. In fact, I can describe his manner at that moment no better than the way Miss Kenton puts it in her letter; it was indeed 'as though he hoped to find some precious jewel he had dropped there'. — Kazuo Ishiguro

Yesterday you were riding on my shoulders," he murmured. "The house was full of noise. Clomping up and down the steps,doors slamming. Scattered toys. I don't know how many times I stepped on one of those damned little cars of Brady's/"
Turning back, he ran a hand over her hair. "I miss that.I miss all of you."
"Daddy." In one fluid movement she rose and slid her arms around him.
"It's the way it's supposed to work. Three of you off at college, Brendon moving around to get a handle on the busines of things.It's what he wants. And you, building your own.But..I miss the crowd of you."
"I promise to slam the door the very first chance I get."
"That might help."
"Sentimental softie.I love that about you."
"Lucky for me. — Nora Roberts

That will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing, - out with it?" "There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel. This is what I have to ask, - Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?" "Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!" And now he unknit his black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if well pleased at seeing a danger averted. "I think I may confess," he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane - and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer. — Charlotte Bronte

Gotcha!" he says, and smirks. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against him. "You are incorrigible, Miss Steele," he murmurs, staring down into my eyes as he weaves his fingers into my hair, holding me firmly in place. He kisses me, hard, and I cling on to his muscular arms for support. — E.L. James

What am I going to do without you, Oscar?'
'You'll be fine', I answered. 'You could probably do some time away from me. I'm a pain in the neck. You're always saying so.'
'You're right,' she said. 'It'll be great to have you out of my hair for a few months.'
'Oscar, seriously though.'
'What?'
'Stay in touch, will you? Please?'
'Of course I will.'
'Promise?'
'Yes, I promise.'
'Good, because I'm really going to miss you. — Sarah Moore Fitzgerald

A four-year-old says, "My mommy lives in heaven. Her eyelashes go down instead of up because she is ... in heaven, but I miss her." She feels consoled that her mother "is with God," who, she says, "has pink whiskers, red hair, and two feet. ... I did not want her to die until I died. I think I am going to die too in a little while. — Jonathan Kozol

It's fine, Mom, really.
She's tucking me into my bed, asking me how my back feels for the one hundredth time in the ten minutes that I've been home. She smiles and strokes my hair. That's what I'm going to miss the most about her. The way she strokes my hair and looks at me with so much love in her eyes. — Colleen Hoover

I had wanted to hate you that day. Believe me, I had. And then suddenly, staring at me incredulously, your extra half-tooth had blurted out aloud, 'You get dimples on both cheeks!' your immaculate lisp intact, on both the 's'es. I remember that second, the way your hair fell, the nankhatais on my tongue and the strains of Akhtar's melody in the air. I had fallen in love with you then. I miss that second.'
('Left from Dhakeshwari') — Kunal Sen

I never lived the life of 'Oh, you're so good-looking'. People thought I was a girl when I was little, because I looked like a girl-maybe because my mother would keep my hair really long in a bowl cut. I was in a coffee shop once and the waitress was like, 'What do you want, Miss?' I was 10 or 11-the worst age to have that happen. I had a jean jacket on and a Metallica pin. I thought I was really cool. — Bradley Cooper

He'd never seen a lady's hair down in a public place, and here was Miss Jerningham - Gabby - blithely shaking her curls, as if the crowd of stevedores, sailors, and boatmen around her were naught.
'A lady does not groom herself in public!'
'I'm afraid I'm used to being on display,' she said brightly. 'In the village, my father and I were the only Europeans. My hair was considered to be a good-luck charm- — Eloisa James

The band did a salute to Stephen Foster and played 'Beautiful Dreamer' and we formed a bed. Then we played 'My Old Kentucky Home' while the majorettes slowly pranced like horses. We finished with 'I Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair', we formed a comb. Miss Philpot is running out of ideas if you ask me. — Fannie Flagg

But if Miss Golightly remained unconscious of my existence, except as a doorbell convenience, I became, through the summer, rather an authority on hers. I discovered, from observing the trash-basket outside her door, that her regular reading consisted of tabloids and travel folders and astrological charts; that she smoked an esoteric cigarette called Picayunes; survived on cottage cheese and Melba Toast; that her vari-colored hair was somewhat self-induced. The same source made it evident that she received V-letters by the bale. They were torn into strips like bookmarks. I used occasionally to pluck myself a bookmark in passing. Remember and miss you and rain and please write and damn and goddamn were the words that recurred most often on these slips; those, and lonesome and love. — Truman Capote

Typical!" he said to Sophie. " I break my neck to get here, and I find you peacefully tidying up!"
Sophie looked up at him. As she had feared, the hard black-and white light coming through the broken wall showed her that Howl had not bothered to shave or tidy his hair. His eyes were still red-rimmed and his black sleeves were torn in several place. There was not much to choose between Howl and the scarecrow. Oh, dear! Sophie thought. He must love Miss Angorian very much. "I came for Miss Angorian," she explained.
"And I thought if I arranged for your family to visit you, it would keep you quiet for once!" Howl said disgustedly. "But no
". — Diana Wynne Jones

Miss Mandible wants to make love to me but she hesitates because I am officially a child; I am, according to the records, according to the gradebook on her desk, according to the card index in the principal's office, eleven years old. There is a misconception here, one that I haven't quite managed to get cleared up yet. I am in fact thirty-five, I've been in the Army, I am six feet one, I have hair in the appropriate places, my voice is a barritone, I know very well what to do with Miss Mandible if she ever makes up her mind. — Donald Barthelme

Sometimes I consider chopping my hair down to a nice manageable three inches, but I would miss it too much. It's less useful and more confidence-boosting, like Superman's cape. — Melissa F. Olson

Fortunately you took the towel on top and you didn't find your bras stashed under the bottom towel. Hopefully, you didn't open the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and find your scratched-up silver hair clip (I stole it the first day I stepped into your apartment, those clips are everywhere, you'd never miss it, right?). I needed it because a few delicious strands of your hair are woven in, holding your DNA, your scent. Did you open the refrigerator door and find your leftover bottle of Nantucket Nectar diet iced tea, half-empty? Your lips touched it and I wanted to keep your lips in my refrigerator. You did pour a glass of water and there is always the possibility that you would have mistaken your iced tea bottle for my own. — Caroline Kepnes