Red Haired Quotes & Sayings

Every publisher or agent I've ever met told me the same thing - that Irish readers don't want to read about the bad old days of the Troubles; neither do the English and Americans - they only want to read about the Ireland of The Quiet Man, when red-haired widows are riding bicycles and everyone else is on a horse. — Adrian McKinty

I'm tall, fat, rather bald, red-faced, double-chinned, black-haired, have a deep voice, and wear glasses for reading. — C.S. Lewis

She did it without thinking--At that moment she was pure Gilly again: red-haired, with fury for blood, perfect aim, and nothing to lose. — Tiffany Baker

I get a little freaked out when I'm around too many redheads. I only have about one or two red-haired friends, and when a bunch of us get together, I feel like there's going to be a fight that breaks out or something. — Jesse Plemons

I noticed then that the red-haired woman was buying the food you eat when you live alone: a box of cereal, a few apples, a plastic container of plain yogurt ... With an abrupt clarity, I saw how I had been launched into another category. I had been the red-haired woman; for a decade of my adult life, I had bought cereal and yogurt, I'd stood near couples and watched them nuzzle, and now I was part of such a couple. And I would not be launched back, I was certain. But I recognized her life, I knew it so well! I wanted to clasp her freckled hand, to say to her
surely we understood some shared code (or surely not, surely she'd have thought me preposterous)
It's good on the other side, but it's good on your side too. Enjoy it there. The loneliness is harder and the loneliness is the biggest part; but some things are easier. — Curtis Sittenfeld

There speaks the passion and the rebellion that go with red hair. My second wife had red hair. She was a beautiful woman, and she loved me. Strange, is it not? I have always admired red-haired women. Your hair is very beautiful. There are other things I like about you. Your spirit, your courage; the fact that you have a mind of your own.

~Mr. Aristides — Agatha Christie

I first heard Personville called Poisonville by a red-haired mucker named Hickey Dewey in the Big Ship in Butte. He also called his shirt a shoit. I didn't think anything of what he had done to the city's name. Later I heard men who could manage their r's give it the same pronunciation. I still didn't see anything in it but the meaningless sort of humor that used to make richardsnary the thieves' word for dictionary. A few years later I went to Personville and learned better. — Dashiell Hammett

Barbie was no longer afraid of anything. It was like the thing Mab had said about belief. The belief is sometimes the biggest part of it all. You can choose to believe in your published book being held in the loving hands of strangers, your name tattooed forever on the heart of the one you adore; you can choose to believe in tiny red-haired pesky piskies--all the things 'they' may tell you not to believe in. But who are they anyway? What do they know? What makes them any more real? — Francesca Lia Block

The assassin flipped back the lid of the basket. The nose instantly shot inward, and Celaena found the strange golden-haired pup quivering in a corner with a red bow around her neck. — Sarah J. Maas

What's this? That little red-haired girl dropped her pencil ... Gee ... It's got teeth marks all over it ... She nibbles her pencil ... She's human! — Charles M. Schulz

You are in my thoughts twenty four seven! I find myself looking for you when you're not around, glancing at every red-haired woman walking by in hopes that it's you. Your green eyes haunt me once I close my eyes, your voice replaying every little word you say to me when it's quiet. Seven you're all I think about and it scares the shit out of me. — T.A. Hardenbrook

Murtaugh Allsbrook and his riders spread the news like wildfire. Down every road, over every river, to the north and south and west, through snow and rain and mist, their hooves churning up the dust of each kingdom.
And for every town they told, every tavern and secret meeting, more riders went out.
More and more, until there was not a road they had not covered, until there was not one soul who did not know that Aelin Galathynius was alive - and willing to stand against Adarlan.
Across the White Fangs and the Ruhnns, all the way to the Western Wastes and the red-haired queen who ruled from a crumbling castle. To the Deserted Peninsula and the oasis-fortress of the Silent Assassins. Hooves, hooves, hooves, echoing through the continent, sparking against the cobblestones, all the way to Banjali and the river-front palace of the King and Queen of Eyllwe, still in their midnight mourning clothes.
Hold on, the riders told the world.
Hold on. — Sarah J. Maas

Relatively few who could be described as a Red-haired dejenerate Pox-ridden Usuring Son of a Bitch who skulks in Brothels when not drunk and comitting Riot in the Street, I imagine. — Diana Gabaldon

Eric followed Vlad Tepes's stubby finger, identifying me as the future Happy Meal. Then he stared at Dracula, looking up from his kneeling position. I couldn't read his face at all, and I felt a stirring of fear. What would Charlie Brown have done if the Great Pumpkin wanted to eat the little red-haired girl? — Charlaine Harris

Those dreams I have at night are going to drive me crazy. Last night I dreamed that little red-haired girl and I were eating lunch together ... But she's gone ... She's moved away, and I don't know where she lives, and she doesn't know I even exist, and I'll never see her again ... And ... I wish men cried ... — Charles M. Schulz

Mrs. Erskine struck him as fierce and plain and haughty as one of those straight-backed red-haired girl-women in certain of the watercolors of Winslow Homer. — Joyce Carol Oates

Nobody believes in racial profiling until they get a red-haired sushi chef with a southern accent. — Jim Gaffigan

Such a morning it is when love leans through geranium windows and calls with a cockerel's tongue. When red-haired girls scamper like roses over the rain-green grass, and the sun drips honey. — Laurie Lee

Red-haired, black-lipped, club-footed, and blink-eyed; if you're a good man, you're a wonder! — Martial

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running - that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters. And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves, that's all. — Jack Kerouac

No one asked your opinion O'Brien," the red-haired one snapped again.
"No one ever asks yours either, that doesn't seem to stop you from giving it," he countered. — C.E. Dimond

There's the house where that little red-haired girl lives ... Maybe she'll see me, and come rushing out to thank me for the Christmas card I sent her ... Maybe she'll even give me a hug ... Maybe Billie Jean King will call me tonight, and invite me out to dinner. — Charles M. Schulz

I think I'll go over and introduce myself to that little red-haired girl. I think I'll introduce myself, and then ask her to come over and sit next to me. I think I'll ask her to sit next to me here, and then I think I'll tell her how much I've always admired her ... I think I'll flap my arms, and fly to the moon. — Charles M. Schulz

If I stand here, I can see the Little Red Haired girl when she comes out of her house ... Of course, if she sees me peeking around this tree, she'll think I'm the dumbest person in the world ... But if I don't peek around the tree, I'll never see her ... Which means I probably AM the dumbest person in the world ... which explains why I'm standing in a batch of poison oak. — Charles M. Schulz

Gavriel's son was bellowing Whitethorn's name. A gods-damned victory cry. Over and over, the men taking up the call.
Then Fenrys's voice lifted.
And Gavriel's.
And that red-haired queen.
The Havilliard king.
On into battle, on into bloodshed, they called the prince's name. — Sarah J. Maas

During the two months of our stay at Biarritz, my passion for Colette all but surpassed my passion for Cleopatra. Since my parents were not keen to meet hers, I saw her only on the beach; but I thought of her constantly. If I noticed she had been crying, I felt a surge of helpless anguish that brought tears to my own eyes. I could not destroy the mosquitoes that had left their bites on her frail neck, but I could, and did, have a successful fistfight with a red-haired boy who had been rude to her. She used to give me warm handfuls of hard candy. One day, as we were bending together over a starfish, and Colette's ringlets were tickling my ear, she suddenly turned toward me and kissed me on the cheek. So great was my emotion that all I could think of saying was, 'You little monkey. — Vladimir Nabokov

THE ONE WHO STAYED
You should have heard the old men cry,
You should have heard the biddies
When that sad stranger raised his flute
And piped away the kiddies.
Katy, Tommy, Meg and Bob
Followed, skipped gaily,
Red-haired Ruth, my brother Rob,
And little crippled Bailey,
John and Nils and Cousin Claire,
Dancin', spinnin', turnin',
'Cross the hills to God knows where-
They never came returnin'.
'Cross the hills to God knows where
The piper pranced, a leadin'
Each child in Hamlin Town but me,
And I stayed home unheedin'.
My papa says that I was blest
For if that music found me,
I'd be witch-cast like all the rest.
This town grows old around me.
I cannot say I did not hear
That sound so haunting hollow-
I heard, I heard, I heard it clear...
I was afraid to follow. — Shel Silverstein

I think my craziest hair was when I first went red for my 30th birthday. My idea was The Little Mermaid because I always wanted to be her and then I was going to be I love Lucy and every red-haired character that you can imagine. It was really cartoon red and now I'm in the more natural believable tones. — Elizabeth Jagger

As he sorted and packed, the red-haired man seemed content. But if you looked more closely you might have noticed that while his hands were busy, his eyes were far away. And while his expression was composed, pleasant even, there was no joy in it. He did not hum or whistle while he worked. He did not sing. — Patrick Rothfuss

The Janitor: You're the only one around here that treats me like a real person.

Elliot: What did you say?

The Janitor: There was one other girl a few years ago: red-haired doctor. She used to eat lunch with me, until the other residents started making fun of her. They called her Janitor-lunch-eater. Not the most clever group...Anyway, I know that you don't think about me the way that I think about you. And I never really believed that you would or that you could. But just pretending for today made me feel good for a change.

Elliott: It's okay. I actually had a good time.

The Janitor: Thanks...Elliot. — Bill Lawrence

The red haired waitress arrived with their drinks, dancing about the table as she placed their orders in front of them. "Hiya, keeds. Peachy place, ain't it?" Before anyone could respond, she kicked her heels in the air and flitted off again.
Waldo lit up a cigarette and tasted his drink. "Listen, I don't think we ought to stay here very long...."
"No shit, Sherlock!" Brisbane chortled. "But first I want to have a little fun. I think I'm gonna talk to some of these guys."
The fredneck left the table and walked over to a group of five men, all of them clad in the old baseball uniforms that were apparently quite popular at The One Year Wonder And All-Around Oddity Bar. They were huddled together on one side of the bar, and Brisbane broke into their conversation with a burst of fredneck chutzpah. — Donald Jeffries

that he had to be respectful to his parents, and even if he wasn't a Christian, he couldn't make fun of people who went to church. He was also supposed to go to church, even if his parents didn't go - which lots of parents don't, and should. As you maybe know, if you've read some of the other stories about the Sugar Creek Gang, about half of us were not Christians at first. Little Jim had nearly all the religion there was in the whole gang, but most of us became Christians. Dragonfly was the last one of us to be saved - except for little red-haired Tom Till, whose father wouldn't believe in God and whose mother had never had a chance in life to be happy, which is maybe one reason Little Tom Till's big brother, Bob, had turned out to be such a bad boy. It is not easy for a boy to become a Christian unless his father is one too. Most boys do what their dads — Paul Hutchens

Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about that little red-haired girl ... I don't ever want to forget her face, but if I don't forget her face, I'll go crazy ... How can I remember the face I can't forget? Suddenly I'm writing country western music! — Charles M. Schulz

The St. Vincents arrived with their daughter Phoebe, a red-haired infant with an alarmingly changeable temperament. One moment the child was placid and adorable. The next, she was a squalling devil-spawn who could only be soothed by the sound of her father's voice. "There, darling," St. Vincent had been known to coo into the infant's ear. "Has someone displeased you? Ignored you? Oh, the insolence. My poor princess shall have anything she wants ... " And, appeased by her father's outrageous spoiling, Phoebe would settle into hiccupping smiles. — Lisa Kleypas

His red-haired companion wore a similar outfit but without the tattoo and piercings, lacking the courage - or the idiocy - to turn a fashion statement into permanent disfigurement. They — Kelley Armstrong

This is how I want to be at the end of my life, white-haired, red-cheeked, with a radiant intelligence evident in clear bright eyes. — Susan Brind Morrow

Are red haired girls, red all over? — Anurag Mathur

I don't get this at all. It's like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired. — David Levithan

Even if we lose, what of it? We have made a song of freedom that will ring for a thousand years. No one will forget the Iceni or their red-haired queen. — Kate Quinn

It starts innocently. Casually. You turn up at the annual spring fair full of beans, help with the raffle tickets (because the pretty red-haired music teacher asks you to) and win a bottle of whiskey (all school raffles are fixed), and, before you know where you are, you're turning up at the weekly school council meetings, organizing concerts, discussing plans for a new music department, donating funds for the rejuvenation of the water fountains - you're implicated in the school, you're involved in it. Sooner or later you stop dropping your children at the school gates. You start following them in. — Zadie Smith

When you get down to it, at it's root, Comedy is truth, absurdity, and pain. One of my little mottos is: 'Do you remember the Peanuts cartoon where Charlie Brown kicked the football and kissed the Little Red Haired Girl? Neither do I.' — Lev Yilmaz

This is because I define myself in part by my color. And I know it is the proverbial slippery slope: That there are associations with red hair that I utterly reject and others I wear proudly means nothing to anyone else, since I don't get to choose how the observer sorts those same traits. Grazing through the stereotypes, I am on the delicatessen plan, winding a way over the menu offerings, picking, choosing and rejecting; adhering to some, dismissing others. Having adopted a method of personal vigilance that allows me to be on the lookout for associations that suffuse my color with preferred associations and to reject those I choose not to adopt, I enhance my self-image. But to other people my red hair is more a take-it-or-leave-it experience: Red-haired, to them, I may also be a certain type of person, complete with temperament. — Marion Roach

I found myself hating him, wanting to hurt him, to drive him away from the red-haired girl who was supposed to be mine.
Breathless, I slumped to the wall, numb with the realization. This anger, these illogical feelings of rage and possessiveness ... I was jealous. I was jealous of a girl I was supposed to be stalking, seducing, for the sole purpose of revealing her true nature. This had become more than an objective, more than a mission.
I was falling for her. — Julie Kagawa

Oh, aren't you the cutest? Yes, you are! You're the sweetest thing since cotton candy, Nan was saying. The pups yipped and crawled over each other in an attempt to lick the glass window where her hand rested. Before long, a cute red-haired employee named Greg, spotted Nan's interest and offered to bring the puppies to the viewing pen. — Chanda Hahn

After killing the red-haired man, I took myself off to Quinn's for an oyster supper. — Michael Cox

Cerise! Come and kiss me, you red haired harpy," Izrayl bellowed. She smiled and moved to kiss his stubbly cheek. He held her tight and squeezed.
"How goes it Old Dog," Cerise said fondly to her temporary captor.
"Still alive," he grinned salaciously at her. "And still young enough to learn some new tricks if you are the one doing the teaching."
"Try it and I will neuter you," Cerise threatened and tugged on his braid. "You dogs, all you think of is hunting, fighting and fucking."
"What else is there?" Izrayl growled in the back of his throat and raised an eyebrow at her suggestively. — Amy Kuivalainen

I love this child. Red-haired - patient and gentle like her mother - fey and funny like her father. When she giggles I can hear him when he and I were young. I am part of this child. It may be only because we share genes and that therefore smell familiar to each other ... It may be that a part of me lives in her in some important way ... But for now, it's jelly beans and 'Old MacDonald' that unite us. — Robert Fulghum

Ethiopians imagine their gods as black and snub-nosed; Thracians blue-eyed and red-haired. But if horses or lions had hands, or could draw and fashion works as men do, horses would draw the gods shaped like horses and lions like lions, making the gods resemble themselves. Xenophanes — Christopher Hitchens

Why are you standing here, Charlie Brown?"
"I'm waiting for that little red-haired girl to walk by ... I'm going to say hello to her and ask her how she's enjoying her summer vacation, and just sort of talk to her ... You know ... "
"You'll never do it, Charlie Brown ... You'll panic ... "
"Besides that, she's already walked by! — Charles M. Schulz

She had curled up with those books on more than one occasion, and yes, she had dreamt of a handsome, red-haired man of action, but it hadn't been Dead-Eye Dan, drat it all. She'd dreamt of Daniel Barrett, the man who worked her father's cattle, who trained the finest mules in the county, and whose sky-blue eyes could melt her heart with a single glance. Daniel Barrett had stolen her heart before she'd ever even heard of Dead-Eye Dan. I — Karen Witemeyer

Before I opened my computer in the parking lot today, I relived one of my favorite memories. It's the one with Woody and me sitting on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum after it's closed. We're watching people parade out of the museum in summer shorts and sandals. The trees to the south are planted in parallel lines. The water in the fountain shoots up with a mist that almost reaches the steps we sit on. We look at silver-haired ladies in red-and-white-print dresses. We separate the mice from the men, the tourists from the New Yorkers, the Upper East Siders from the West Siders. The hot-pretzel vendor sells us a wad of dough in knots with clumps of salt stuck on top. We make our usual remarks about the crazies and wonder what it would be like to live in a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue overlooking the Met. We laugh and say the same things we always say. We hold hands and keep sitting, just sitting, as the sun beings to set. It's a perfect afternoon. — Diane Keaton

I come from a long line of downtrodden women who marry alcoholics. All the way back to my Lenni Lanape great-great-great-(lots of greats) grandmother, Scarlet Bird, a red-haired New Jersey Indian who married William Penn. I know this to be true because of the red highlights in my hair, and because, if you ever see the statue of William Penn in Philadelphia, the one that dictates the height of all the buildings in its perimeter, you will notice, if you look at him from behind, that he and I have the exact same rear end. — Wendy Wunder

The other red-haired woman stepped forward with a regal grace that was impressive. "I'm Kiara Quiakides and the fiercely stern blond on my right is my husband Nykyrian. And we have other kids, but this," she rubbed her hand over her distended belly, "is the only one with us right now. The others are at home, hopefully not making their nannies too crazy." Nykyrian let out an intimidating grunt. "If Adron sets fire to his room one more time, I vote we make him live outside in a tent." Everyone laughed. Except Kiara who appeared to actually consider it. Ryn — Sherrilyn Kenyon

He took another swallow of beer. "Are things as bad as they seem? Or have I just gotten old like my da, and now everything tastes a little bitter compared to when I was a boy?" Kote wiped at the bar for a long moment, as if reluctant to speak. "I think things are usually bad one way or another," he said. "It might be that only us older folk can see it." Graham began to nod, then frowned. "Except you're not old, are you? I forget that most times." He looked the red-haired man up and down. "I mean, you move around old, and you talk old, but you're not, are you? I'll bet you're half my age." He squinted at the innkeeper. "How old are you, anyway?" The innkeeper gave a tired smile. "Old enough to feel old. — Patrick Rothfuss

[ ... ] the red-haired aesthete politician flashed a welcoming smile and extended a hand in greeting. — James Luceno

I didn't see how wearing prosthetics was quite so different from being born with flaming red hair in a crowd of black-haired babies, or being of a different religion from that of every other child in your area. — Aimee Mullins

Yearning is a red-haired girl sitting on the hood of her silver sedan, reading about Marilyn Monroe. A cherry orchard at night, houselights in the distance. It's the painstaking neatness of a paint-by-number sunset, a yellowed letter held between graceful fingers, a cautious step into the sun-filled lobby of a famous hotel.
It's the way I feel every time I think about Ava. — Nina LaCour

Evie gave birth later that year to a high-spirited girl with flame-colored curls, leading St. Vincent to the conclusion that it was his destiny to be loved by many red-haired women. He was very pleased. — Lisa Kleypas

Today, you can look across the conference table at your co-workers and see the red-haired behemoth, the kid with the runny nose, the football team captain, the cheerleader, the geek with the taped horn-rimmed glasses, the ever-present bully, and of course, the comedian. Other than being advanced in age and maturity (which is always a matter of opinion), we're working with the same personalities that we've grown up with during recess on the playground ... — David R. Smat

Peter was a gentle, red-haired bear of a man. Standing at six-four in his socks, he moved everywhere with a slight and nautical sway, but even though he was broad across the chest there was something centered and reassuring about him, like an old ship's mast cut from a single timber. — Graham Joyce

We come to a corner where there are a few people protesting the festivities. I don't understand this at all. It's like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired.
In my experience, desire is desire, love is love. I have never fallen in love with a gender. I have fallen for individuals. I know this is hard for people to do, but I don't understand why it's so hard, when it's so obvious. — David Levithan

I have a thing for red-haired Irish boys, as we know. — Sandra Bullock

So," dark Susurre said quietly, "if you follow the curve ... in a way your Damon did die to save Fell's Church from another massacre like the one on that Japanease island. He kept saying that was what he'd come to the Nether World to do. Do you not think he would be satisfied? At peace?"
"At PEACE?!" Stefan spat bitterly, and Sage growled.
"Woman," you obviously have never met Damon Salvatore before." The tone in his voice
more resonant, more threatening somehow
made Elena finally break off her staredown with the red-haired Idola. She turned and looked
and saw the enormous room filled with Sage's outspread wings. — L.J.Smith

Don't come, I was thinking now. Wherever you are, stay there. Because with her reduced to a fantasy, I could imagine a wonderful meeting. I could see her smiling, tossing her red-haired head, staring at me with inquisitive eyes. I'd say something meaningful to her, and she'd melt for me. Reality could not live up to that. — Scott Adlerberg

It was then that the fair-haired Shadowhunter that Magnus had spotted at the Institute somersaulted from the top of a wall and landed gracefully in the street before him. "Devastating ensembles made on Bond Street with red brocade waistcoats do not simply drop out of the sky!" Magnus proclaimed experimentally to the Heavens. The young man frowned. "I beg your pardon?" "Oh, nothing, nothing at all," said Magnus. "May I help you? I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. — Cassandra Clare

Rats! There goes the bell ... oh, how I hate lunch hours! I always have to eat alone because nobody likes me ... Peanut butter again ... I wish that little red haired girl would come over, and sit with me. Wouldn't it be great if she'd walk over here, and say, "May I eat lunch with you, Charlie Brown?" I'd give anything to talk with her ... she'd never like me, though ... I'm so blah and so stupid ... she'd never like me ... I wonder what would happen if I went over and tried to talk to her! Everyone would probably laugh ... she'd probably be insulted someone as blah as I am tried to talk to her. I hate lunch hour ... all it does is make me lonely ... during class it doesn't matter ... I can't even eat ... Nothing tastes good ... Rats! Nobody is ever going to like me ... Lunch hour is the loneliest hour of the day! — Charles M. Schulz

The harsh truth is, most red-haired men look like blondes who've spoiled from lack of refrigeration. They look like brown-haired men who've been composted out behind the barn. Yet that same pigmentation that on a man can resemble leaf mold or junkyard rust, a woman wears like a tiara of rubies. — Tom Robbins

Keep that red-haired girl of yours in the open air all summer and don't let her read books until she gets more spring into her step." This message frightened Marilla wholesomely. She read Anne's death warrant by consumption in it unless it was scrupulously obeyed. As a result, Anne had the golden summer of her life as far as freedom and frolic went. She walked, rowed, berried, and dreamed to her heart's content; and when September came she was bright-eyed and alert, with a step that would have satisfied the Spencervale doctor and a heart full of ambition and zest once more. "I just feel like studying with might and main," she declared as she brought her books down from the attic. "Oh, you good old friends, I'm glad to see your honest face once more - yes, even you, geometry. — L.M. Montgomery

Maris smiled as he saw that day so clearly in his mind. He'd been pinned to the school wall by a bully who'd been pounding on him. Out of nowhere, this tiny little red-haired boy had come charging in like a hurricane. Barely five years old, Darling had been short for his age. But what he lacked in height, he made up for in ferocity. In no time at all, he'd beat the bully back and had him on the ground, crying for his mother. After making him swear he'd never even look at Maris again, Darling had stood up and come over to him. Forever proud and fierce, Darling had wiped the blood from his lips, then offered Maris his other hand. "Hi, I'm Darling Cruel. We should be friends." Maris had fallen in love instantly. And he'd been in love with Darling every day since. "You — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Men imagine gods to be born, and to have clothes and voices and shapes like theirs....Yea, the gods of the Ethiopians are black and flat-nosed, and the gods of the Thracians are red-haired and blue-eyed. — Michio Kaku

Red hair like yours is unusual in all corners of the world. Other folk have often feared the red-haired as witches, or called them soul-less... But, it's the perfect color for a mage!

Red is the color of the Earth itself, and of the fire that burns within it -- and of the blood in our own veins"

- Lindel, Ancient Magus Bride, V4 — Kore Yamazaki