Quotes & Sayings About Your Beautiful Hair

I don't care what color your hair is, if you're pale or tan, if you have makeup on or just woke up all I care about is that when I look at you, you always look back and see me. You're beautiful inside and out and if you wanted to tattoo all that pretty white skin from head to toe I would be honored to put it there for you but if not I'll take you all smooth and milky white any chance I get. — Jay Crownover

And the way you lost your temper!" went on Wallis enthusiastically. "Oh, Mr. Allan, it was beautiful! You haven't been more than to say snarly since the accident! It was so like the way you used to throw hair-brushes
— Margaret Widdemer

O' beautiful for spacious skies
But now those skies are threatening
They're beating plowshares into swords
For this tired old man that we elected king
Armchair warriors often fail
And we've been poisoned by these fairy tales
The lawyers clean up all details
Since daddy had to lie
But I know a place where we can go
And wash away this sin
We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by
And the tall grass wave in the wind
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair spill all around me
Offer up your best defence
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence — Don Henley

She was beautiful, only hers was the dark beauty of night, just as Sherry's was the bright beauty of daytime. Her hair was raven-black, ending in a sort of widow's peak low on her forehead, and her face and arms were alabaster- white. Her gown was a clinging thing of swirling black, almost like smoke, and two peculiar shoulder-draperies she wore, hanging down loosely and caught at the wrists, almost suggested great triangular wings when her arms were in motion.
Her lips were a red gash in the pallor of her face, and they glistened as though she had daubed them with fresh blood instead of rouge.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Call me Faustine," she said low. I saw her staring fixedly at me, with a sort of half-smile on her face, but her gaze rested a little lower than my own face. I fingered my neck uneasily. "Is there something on my collar?"
("Vampire's Honeymoon") — Cornell Woolrich

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

A guy out there was meant to be the love of your life, your best friend, your soul mate, the one you can tell your dreams to. He'll brush the hair out of your eyes. Send you flowers when you least expect it. He'll stare at you during the movies, even though he paid $8 to see it. He'll call to say goodnight or just cause he's missing you. He'll look in your eyes and tell you, you're the most beautiful girl in the world, and for the first times in your life, you'll believe it. — Nicholas Sparks

Cause scars or not, hacked-off hair or not, lash marks on your back, a fuckin' cross burned onto your stomach or not, you are perfect to me. You will always exist to me. And anything you did to yourself to fuck that up didn't work because you'll always be the most beautiful bitch I've ever seen. You'll always be the only bitch I'll ever see, period. — Tillie Cole

He reaches out quickly and tucks my hair behind my ear. I freeze at his touch and the feeling his fingers have left across my cheek.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see your face."

I pull back shyly. "And why would you want to do that?"

He sits up and looks me dead in the eye. The air around us suddenly feels warm, making me shiver as the temperature around my skin changes. "Because you're beautiful. — Beckie Stevenson

I'm already there
Take a look around
I'm the sunshine in your hair
I'm the shadow on the ground
I'm the whisper in the wind
I'm your imaginary friend
And I know I'm in your prayers — Lonestar

I'll show you how great we are going to be. Because you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met, and I'm not talking about your gorgeous face, your stunning hair or your drop-dead sexy body. I never knew it was possible to be so attracted to your best friend. — Kimberly Lauren

In other languages,
you are beautiful- mort, muerto- I wish
I spoke moon, I wish the bottom of the ocean
were sitting in that chair playing cards
and noticing how famous you are
on my cell phone- picture of your eyes
guarding your nose and the fire
you set by walking, picture of dawn
getting up early to enthrall your skin- what I hate
about stars is they're not those candles
that make a joke of cake, that you blow on
and they die and come back, and you
you're not those candles either, how often I realize
I'm not breathing, to be like you
or just afraid to move at all, a lung
or finger, is it time already
for inventory, a mountain, I have three
of those, a bag of hair, box of ashes, if you
were a cigarette I'd be cancer, if you
were a leaf, you were a leaf, every leaf, as far
as this tree can say. — Bob Hicok

You may be amazed that you are still unique and beautiful as your natural self. Only you can decide if this style is for you. — Monica Millner

You need a man, Kara. A man you can open up to. A man whose passion for life matches yours. A man who grabs your hair in big fistfuls and twists and pulls it when he's fucking you. A man willing to walk wire for you. — Pamela Clare

These outward identities we build for ourselves are not all that we are. A person is made of so many layers. Skin is just the top layer. It's the part you can see, so when you walk into a room, others won't run into you. It's the brown-hair, brown-eyes layer; the you-look-good-in-green layer.
Your outside is important because God made that part. He made you on purpose, uniquely beautiful. But you can't stop there, because that's your body, your skin, your outside. Dead people have all that stuff too. — Emily P. Freeman

He tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Would you give me a daughter with your beautiful blue eyes?" he whispered, his face near hers. "First I want a son with your green ones." Nick cupped her cheeks with his hands, leaned forward, and kissed her gently. Straightening, he smiled down at her. — Debra Holland

What all the ads and whorescopes seemed to imply was that if only you took proper care of your smells, your hair, your boobs, your eyelashes, your armpits, your crotch, your stars, your scars, your choice of Scotch in bars - you would meet a beautiful powerful, potent, and rich man who would satisfy every longing, fill every hole, make your heart skip a beat (or stand still), make you misty, and fly you to the moon (preferably on gossamer wings), where you would live totally satisfied forever. — Erica Jong

O beautiful Janie with your straw-colored hair
I would follow you anywhere
One so beautiful I will never meet again
And you're also much stronger than most other men
Which is hot, by the way
And I'm not intimidated by that at all — Michelle Rowen

In a way he made me think of a child doll, with briliant faintly red-brown glass eyes - a doll that had been found in an attic. I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him evevn more radiant than he was.
"That's what you always want," he said softly ... "When you found me under Les Innocents," he said, "you wanted to bathe me with perfume and dress me in velvevt with great embroidered sleeves."
"Yes," I said, "and comb your hair, your beautiful russet hair." My tone was angry. "You look good to me, you damnable little devil, good to embrace and good to love. — Anne Rice

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge you'll never walk alone.
...
We leave you a tradition with a future.
The tender loving care of human beings will never become obsolete.
People even more than things have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed and redeemed.
Never throw out anybody.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands: one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.
Your "good old days" are still ahead of you, may you have many of them. — Sam Levenson

Skylar, you are beautiful, whether you have all of your hair or none of it, whether you weigh eighty pounds or two hundred and eighty. You're gorgeous and smart and fun, and so incredibly full of life. If Cory thought some dumb cancer would beat you, and that's really what scared him off, then he's a moron. — Eve Jagger

And I will get to climb on that big beautiful bike of yours and wrap my arms around you and lean into all that gorgeous hair and smell you, and hear you laugh and see your eyes flash fire. Or I may as well just kick it right now because you, Dani Mega O'Malley, make me feel alive like nothing else does. — Karen Marie Moning

You're beautiful, Genesis." I swallowed, placing my hands on the table in front of her. "Immortals would fight wars over you, and not just your face or your hair or the way your smile penetrates to someone's very soul - but because you're good. — Rachel Van Dyken

Most people can be made to look beautiful - someone can do your hair nice and put some make-up on - but being sexy is something inside and not everybody has it. I don't think I ever really had it, a lot of it is to do with confidence. — Lara Stone

I was doing someones hair the day I first saw my guitar ... a guy was walking down the street with it, and knew that guitar was mine (a 1953 weathered Fender Telecaster) .. I said I'll get you the most beautiful guitar you've ever seen and I'll trade you straight across ... I found him a purple Telecaster and said here's your guitar ... that was it, it was like he knew that guitar belonged to me ... — Roy Buchanan

Hi. I'm Spider Jerusalem. I smoke. I take drugs. I drink. I wash every six weeks. I masturbate constantly and fling my steaming poison semen down from my window into your hair and food. I'm a rich and respected columnist for a major metropolitan newspaper. I live with two beautiful women in the city's most expensive and select community. Being a bastard works. — Warren Ellis

In his mind she lay at his lap with his fingers gliding thru her straight beautiful hair. He smiles and says your beauty lights up everything around you. — Rumi

I turned to see his expression. When I saw that he was serious, I shot hum a dubious look. "Sleeping in between the toilet and the tub on a cold, hard tile floor with a vomiting idiot was one of your best nights? That's sad, Trav."
"No, sitting up with you when you're sick and you falling asleep in my lap was one of my best night." ( ... ) "Thanks, Trav. I won't make you babysit me again."
He leaned against his pillow. "Whatever. No one can hold your hair back like I can. — Jamie McGuire

Fit in here, in my palm, in my shadow, don't be bigger than my idea of you, don't be more beautiful than i can accept, don't be more human than i am willing to allow you to be and be quiet, you're too loud, even your un-belonging is loud. quiet your dreams, your voice, your hair, quiet your skin, quiet your displacement, quiet your longing, your colour, quiet your walk, your eyes. who said you could look at me like that? who said you could exist without permission? why are you even here? why aren't you shrinking? i think of you often. you vibrate. you walk into a room and the temperature changes. i lean in and almost recognise you as human. but, no. we can't have that. — Warsan Shire

He sighed and bowed deeply. Sundari. I was standing here thinking nothing could be more beautiful than this sunset tonight, but I was mistaken. You standing here in the setting sun with your hair and skin aglow is almost more than a man can ... fully appreciate. — Colleen Houck

It was like I saw your soul in the notes of the music. And it was beautiful." She leaned forward and touched his face lightly, the smooth skin over his hard cheekbone, his hair like feathers against the back of her hand. "I saw rivers, boats like flowers, all the colors of the night sky. — Cassandra Clare

I was going to tell you that you look beautiful with your hair down. That's all I was going to say. — Lauren Oliver

I wonder what Lena is doing now. I always wonder what Lena is doing. Rachel, too: both my girls, my beautiful, big-eyed girls. But I worry about Rachel less. Rachel was always harder than Lena, somehow. More defiant, more stubborn, less feeling . Even as a girl, she frightened me - fierce and fiery-eyed, with a temper like my father's once was.
But Lena . . . little darling Lena, with her tangle of dark hair and her flushed, chubby cheeks. She used to rescue spiders from the pavement to keep them from getting squashed; quiet, thoughtful Lena, with the sweetest lisp to break your heart. To break my heart: my wild, uncured, erratic, incomprehensible heart. I wonder whether her front teeth still overlap; whether she still confuses the words pretzel and pencil occasionally; whether the wispy brown hair grew straight and long, or began to curl.
I wonder whether she believes the lies they told her. — Lauren Oliver

I found the world of the Little House books to be so much less confusing, not just because it was "simpler," as plenty of people love to insist, but because it reconciled all the little contradictions of my modern girlhood. On the Banks of Plum Creek clicked with me especially, with its perfect combination of pinafores and recklessness. (I will direct your attention to the illustration on page 31 of my Plum Creek paperback, where you will note how fabulous Laura looks as she pokes the badger with a stick; her style is casual yet feminine, perfect for precarious nature adventures!) At an age when I found myself wanting both a Webelos uniform and a head of beautiful Superstar Barbie hair, On the Banks of Plum Creek was a reassuring book. Being a girl sometimes made more sense in Laura World than it did in real life. — Wendy McClure

Are you glad I came?" "Delighted, dear Carmilla," I answered. "And you asked for the picture you think like me, to hang in your room," she murmured with a sigh, as she drew her arm closer about my waist, and let her pretty head sink upon my shoulder. "How romantic you are, Carmilla," I said. "Whenever you tell me your story, it will be made up chiefly of some one great romance." She kissed me silently. "I am sure, Carmilla, you have been in love; that there is, at this moment, an affair of the heart going on." "I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you." How beautiful she looked in the moonlight! Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled. Her — J. Sheridan Le Fanu

I looked at you ... and saw your goodness, your hope, and your faith. Those are what make you beautiful. So, so beautiful.
So it was't my hair? — Richelle Mead

Gracious ignored him. "A farmer's daughter, she was, though back then every girl was a farmer's daughter. Or a farmer. She had long hair like rope, and a nose. All her eyes were blue and she had a smile like a radiant hole in the ground, with teeth. God, she was beautiful."
"She sounds terrifying," said Donegan.
"Hush, you. I will hear no bad word spoken of your sister. — Derek Landy

YOUR GENES ARE RUNNING THE SHOW If you're anything like me, I know you're champing at the bit to get going on Diet Evolution, but hold your horses. I've found that most of us can stick to a program only if we understand how and why we got to our present state of affairs. The next four chapters will do just that. You can thank Mom and Dad for your beautiful baby blues, as well as your hair color, height, and build. All these traits were encoded in copies of their genes - half of them her's, the other half his - that now reside in your body. Any children you have will in turn have copies of half of your genes and half of your partner's, and so on through generations to come. Determining — Steven R. Gundry

Toxic relationships are dangerous to your health; they will literally kill you. Stress shortens your lifespan. Even a broken heart can kill you. There is an undeniable mind-body connection. Your arguments and hateful talk can land you in the emergency room or in the morgue. You were not meant to live in a fever of anxiety; screaming yourself hoarse in a frenzy of dreadful, panicked fight-or-flight that leaves you exhausted and numb with grief. You were not meant to live like animals tearing one another to shreds. Don't turn your hair gray. Don't carve a roadmap of pain into the sweet wrinkles on your face. Don't lay in the quiet with your heart pounding like a trapped, frightened creature. For your own precious and beautiful life, and for those around you - seek help or get out before it is too late. This is your wake-up call! — Bryant McGill

You're hair was softer than I expected it to be, more beautiful when it's down than I expected it to be. You're sweeter than I expected you to be, funnier, more loyal and I expected all that to be phenomenal so, I gotta tell you, baby, it pleases me no fuckin' end to learn the reality is off-the-charts. Better than that, when you get pissed, I gotta fight against goin' hard. When you smile, I gotta fight against goin' hard. And when you look deep into my eyes and see whatever the fuck you see and I know how much you like it because it's written all over your face, I gotta fight against goin' hard. But even with the promise of that, finally havin' you is another reality that's off-the-charts. — Kristen Ashley

You are absolutely beautiful," Anne said. "But if you see yourself, you'll want to pin your hair back like a shepherdess in a bad play."
(Eleanor) "Are you saying that I normally look as if I'm tending sheep? With straw in my hair? As if I might yodel? — Eloisa James

The streak of bleach in my hair is as obvious as ever. Am I really going out in public like this? I push my hair backward and forward a few times - but I can't hide it. Maybe I could walk along with my hand carelessly positioned at my head, as if I'm thinking hard. I attempt a few casual, pensive poses in the mirror.
"Is your head all right?"
I swivel round in shock to see Nathaniel at the open door, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans.
"Er ... fine," I say, my hand still glued to my head. "I was just ... "
Oh, there's no point. I bring my hand down from my hair and Nathaniel regards the streak for a moment.
"It looks nice," he says. "Like a badger."
"A badger?" I say, affronted. "I don't look like a badger."
"Badgers are beautiful creatures," says Nathaniel with a shrug. "I'd rather look like a badger than a stoat. — Sophie Kinsella

The problem with a beautiful woman is that she makes everyone around her feel hopelessly masculine, which if you're already male to begin with poses no particular problem. But if you're anyone else, your whole sexual identity gets dragged into the principal's office: "So what's this I hear about you prancing around, masquerading as a woman?" You are answerless. You are sitting on your hands. You are praying for your breasts to grow, your hair to perk up. — Lorrie Moore

I had a book of Bible stories when I was a kid. There was a picture I'd look at twenty times every day: Jacob wrestles with the angel. I don't really remember the story, or why the wrestling
just the picture. Jacob is young and very strong. The angel is ... a beautiful man, with golden hair and wings, of course. I still dream about it. Many nights. I'm ... It's me. In that struggle. Fierce, and unfair. The angel is not human, and it holds nothing back, so how could anyone human win, what kind of a fight is that? It's not just. Losing means your soul thrown down in the dust, your heart torn out from God's. But you can't not lose. — Tony Kushner

It is not fancy hair, gold jewelry, or fine clothes that should make you beautiful. No, your beauty should come from within you - the beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit. This beauty will never disappear, and it is worth very much to God. Peter 3:3-4 — Anonymous

Daily Alice awoke, as she always did, when the sun broke in at her eastward windows with a noise like music. She kicked off the figured coverlet and lay naked in the long bars of sun for a time, touching herself awake, finding eyes, knees, breasts, red-gold hair all in place and where she had left them. Then she stood, stretched, brushed the last of sleep from her face, and knelt by the bed amid the squares of sun and said, as she had every morning since she could speak, her prayers:
O great wide beautiful wonderful World
With the wonderful waters around you curled
And the beautiful grass upon your breast
O World you are beautifully dressed. — John Crowley

It draws you in. You twist your mind into new shapes. You start to understand Caverna . . . and you fall in love with her. Imagine the most beautiful woman in the world, but with tunnels as her long, tangled, snake-like hair. Her skin is dappled in trap-lantern gold and velvety black, like a tropical frog. Her eyes are cavern lagoons, bottomless and full of hunger. When she smiles, she has diamonds and sapphires for teeth, thousands of them, needle-thin."

"But that sounds like a monster!"

"She is. Caverna is terrifying. This is love, not liking. You fear her, but she is all you can think about. — Frances Hardinge

There's nothing worse than looking as if you've tried too hard or preened to within an inch of your life. If I'm wearing a strong item like a really beautiful dress, then I'll play down my shoes and accessories and make my hair really natural. — Louise Nurding

Tell your daughters how you love your body.
Tell them how they must love theirs.

Tell them to be proud of every bit of themselves -
from their tiger stripes to the soft flesh of their thighs,
whether there is a little of them or a lot,
whether freckles cover their face or not,
whether their curves are plentiful or slim,
whether their hair is thick, curly, straight, long or short.

Tell them how they inherited
their ancestors, souls in their smiles,
that their eyes carry countries
that breathed life into history,
that the swing of their hips
does not determine their destiny.

Tell them never to listen when bodies are critiqued.
Tell them every woman's body is beautiful
because every woman's soul is unique. — Nikita Gill

She was the kind of elegance
That would never tarnish.
A mixture of lace and mesh,
Like a classic heirloom that begged to be worn.
She was sharp intellect and quick wit.
The type of woman that spoke her mind,
Even if it shook.
(Or even if no one was listening.)
She was beautiful.
But not someone you'd see in magazines,
Her hips were too wide, her hair a mess of wispy tendrils,
(Rather, she was actually very ordinary.)
My, was she stubborn! She'd drive you mad!
(Sometimes, you'd probably call her crazy.)
But mostly, her laughter was a joyful moments.
Like a warm towel fresh from the dryer,
Or finding a twenty-dollar bill in your winter coat.
And that was the true revelation.
That magic does exist,
It ran through her like a wild, fiery current. — M.J. Abraham

Leave your hair natural. Let your beard grow out. Leave the makeup in the bag. Wear comfortable clothes. Stop worrying so much about your looks and start looking around you. You have missed so much beauty trying to become beautiful. You have missed your own worth trying to become worthy. Let the mask break open. Let it lie on the floor. Let yourself be seen. Let yourself see. — Vironika Tugaleva

Beauty isn't just outer appearance. Beauty isn't just what your hair looks like, what your body looks like, how full your lips are, or how smooth your skin is. Beauty is so much more than people think. What really makes you beautiful is your inner beauty, Selena. You shine with your attitude, with your actions, yours words, and with your behavior. Outer beauty only gets attention, but inner beauty captures the heart. Remember: Beauty is ephemeral, but inner beauty remains forever. — Rose J. Bell

It's time for us to join the line of your madmen all chained together.
Time to be totally free, and estranged.
Time to give up our souls, to set fire to structures and run out in the street.
Time to ferment.
How else can we leave the world-vat and go to the lip?
We must die to become true human beings.
We must turn completely upside down
like a comb in the top of a beautiful woman's hair.
Spread out your wings as a tree lifts in the orchard.
As seed scattered on the road,
as a stone melts to wax,
as a candle becomes the moth.
On a chessboard the king is blessed again with his queen.
With our faces so close to the love mirror, we must not breathe, but change to a cleared place where a building was and feel the treasure hiding inside us.
With no beginning or end,
we live in lovers as a story they know.
If you will be the key, we'll be tumblers in the lock. — Rumi

I like watching your ... power," Dylan said. "You're a beautiful flyer. Your hair is streaming through the air like silk ribbon. The sun is shining on your feathers. And I'm just glad to be here, with you. Even if we are trying to stop mass destrucion. — James Patterson

Son, you can't go around painting yourself black, you hear?"
"Why not, Papa?"
"Because they'll take you away."
"Why?"
"Because you shouldn't want to be like black people or Jewish people or anyone who is ... not us."
"Who are Jewish people?"
"You know my oldest customer, Mr. Kaufmann? Where we bought your shoes?"
"Yes."
"Well, he's Jewish."
"I didn't know that. Do you have to pay to be Jewish? Do you need a license?"
...
" ... you've got beautiful blond hair and big safe blue eyes. You should be happy with that; is that clear? — Markus Zusak

This time, I sat next to a pixie girl called Takara, who had pinkish hair and wore a bright pink dress to match. She was the first forest-dweller I had seen wearing jewellery: she was wearing a necklace and bracelet of finely worked crystal beads. When she noticed my interest, she removed her bracelet and held it out to me.
"Sophiel, I would be so pleased if you would wear this!"
I was surprised by this kind and very selfless gesture; after all, I had not been admiring her jewels with any intention of asking her to part with them!
"You're very kind, Takara, but I was merely admiring your handiwork!" I said, trying politely to refuse her gift. "Mitsuko told me that you make your jewellery yourself. You're very talented, they're really lovely pieces, but I wouldn't want to take them away from you. It's you that makes these jewels really beautiful! — A.O. Esther

He looked nearly inconspicuous, a handsome man in faded Levi's and tennis shoes. A Yankees baseball cap covered his dark hair, the bill shadowing his features. Casual. Beautiful. A day's growth of beard on his jaw did little to detract from his excruciating attractiveness.
"She's eight months old, but she knows how to flirt," the baby's mother said. "Let go of the nice man's shirt, Gabbi." She dislodged the child's hand, then told Adrian, "I'm sorry. She must like the colors on your T-shirt."
Eight-month-old Gabbi's big blue eyes were fixed on Adrian's face, not on his T-shirt. Billie released a shaky breath. Good God. Even babies weren't immune. — Shelby Reed

I will go directly to her home, ring the bell, and walk in. Here I am, take me-or stab me to death. Stab the heart, stab the brains, stab the lungs, the kidneys, the viscera, the eyes, the ears. If only one organ be left alive you are doomed-doomed to be mine, forever, in this world and the next and all the worlds to come. I'm a desperado of love, a scalper, a slayer. I'm insatiable. I eat hair, dirty wax, dry blood clots, anything and everything you call yours. Show me your father, with his kites, his race horses, his free passes for the opera: I will eat them all, swallow them alive. Where is the chair you sit in, where is your favorite comb, your toothbrush, your nail file? Trot them out that I may devour them at one gulp. You have a sister more beautiful than yourself, you say. Show her to me-I want to lick the flesh from her bones. — Henry Miller

Picture to yourself the most beautiful girl imaginable! She was so beautiful that there would be no point, in view of my meagre talent for storytelling, in even trying to put her beauty into words. That would far exceed my capabilities, so I'll refrain from mentioning whether she was a blonde or a brunette or a redhead, or whether her hair was long or short or curly or smooth as silk. I shall also refrain from the usual comparisons where her complexion was concerned, for instance milk, velvet, satin, peaches and cream, honey or ivory, Instead, I shall leave it entirely up to your imagination to fill in this blank with your own ideal of feminine beauty. — Walter Moers

A friend of mine once saw Mandela in a South African airport and told me this story. The president had noticed a lady who was walking by with her daughter, a beautiful five- or six-year-old girl, with blond hair and blue eyes. Mandela walked up to this little girl and leaned down and shook her hand, and he said, "Do you know who I am?" And the child smiled and said, "Yes, you are President Mandela." Mandela said, "Yes, I am your president. And if you work very hard in school and you learn a lot and you are nice to everybody, you too could grow up to be President of South Africa." Just — Nelson Mandela

Such beautiful scarlet hair ... Why don't we call you 'Erza Scarlet'? It's the color of your hair, that way, I won't forget it!
-Jellal Fernandes — Hiro Mashima

Things to say when in love
i. I want to make you a planet.
ii. I will put the galaxy in your hair.
iii. Your kisses are a mouthful of firewater.
iv. I have never seen a more beautiful horizon than when you close your eyes. and
v. I have never seen a more beautiful dawn than when you open your eyes. — Tapiwa Mugabe

She smiled and combed my hair with her fingers. That was always her thing. She looked straight into my eyes and said calmly, "Your father was beautiful." She didn't even hesitate. I wanted to ask her what happened to all that beauty. — Benjamin Alire Saenz

Baby you light up my world like nobody else. The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed. And when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell. You don't know-oh-oh, you don't know you're beautiful. If only you saw what I can see, you'd understand why I want you so desperately. Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe, you don't know-oh-oh, you don't know you're beautiful. That's What Makes You Beautiful. — One Direction

Thomas Builds-the-Fire's stories climbed into your clothes like sad, gave you itches that could not be scratched. If you repeated eve a sentence from one of those stories, your throat was never the same again. Those stories hung in your clothes and hair like smoke, and no amount of laundry soap or shampoo washed them out. Victor and Junior often tried to beat those stories out of Thomas, tied him down and taped his mouth shut. They pretended to be friendly and tried to sweet talk Thomas into temporary silences, made promises about beautiful Indian women and cases of Diet Pepsi. But none of that stopped Thomas, who talked and talked. — Sherman Alexie

It's okay to want me, you know," Linden says thickly.
My stomach quivers. I manage to shake my head and now his fingers are trailing behind my neck, running into the base of my hair and another shiver escapes down my back.
"Since when is it ever okay to want your best friend?" I say softly, nearly choking on the words. Because that's what he is, that's what he's always been.
He smiled gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Isn't that the best person to want? The person that knows you inside and out. The person who has seen you at your ugliest and most beautiful and still wants to be with you. The person who believes in you and has your back, no matter what. — Karina Halle

My God, you have beautiful hair in the firelight," he said softly, and I blinked. "It's like your thoughts, all cinnamon and wild untamed. I've always liked your hair. — Kim Harrison

The Nigger was a handsome, austere woman with snow-white hair and a dark and awful dignity. Her brown eyes, brooding deep in her skull, looked out on an ugly world with philosophic sorrow. She conducted her house like a cathedral dedicated to a sad but erect Priapus. If you wanted a good laugh
and a poke in the ribs, you went to Jenny's and got your money's worth; but if the sweet worldsadness close to tears crept out of your immutable loneliness, the Long Green was your place. When you came out of there you felt that something pretty stern and important had happened. It was no jump in the hay. The dark beautiful eyes of the Nigger stayed with you for days. — John Steinbeck

I like your hair down." He twisted his fingers through the curls.
My eyes drifted shut as I relaxed next to him. "It's a mess. I need to get a haircut."
Hayden's fingers stilled. "No. You shouldn't cut your hair. It's beautiful."
I would never cut my hair. Ever. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

You deserve to be treated like the fucking warrior goddess you are - beautiful, strong, perfect. You deserve a man that can worship your body all night softly, then pull your hair back and fuck you till you scream out in release, over and over. You deserve an equal in life, but a man to dominate you in bed. You deserve the flowers and the fucks. — Jessica Florence

He's out there. A guy out there was meant to be the love of your life, your best friend, your soulmate. The one you can tell your dreams to. He'll brush your hair out of your eyes. Send you flowers when you least expect it. He'll stare at you during the movies, even though he paid eight dollars to see it. He'll call to say "Goodnight" or just because he is missing you. He'll look in your eyes and tell you you're the most beautiful girl in the world. And for the first time in your life, you'll believe it. — Nicholas Sparks

I know!' Father Consett said. 'You're a beautiful woman. Some men would say it was a lucky fellow that lived with you. I don't ignore the fact in my cogitation. He'd imagine all sorts of delights to lurk in the shadow of your beautiful hair. And they wouldn't.' Sylvia brought her gaze down from the ceiling and fixed her brown eyes for a moment on the priest, speculatively. — Ford Madox Ford

It's only that ye looked so beautiful, wi' the fire on your face, and your hair waving in the wind. I wanted to remember it. — Diana Gabaldon

You're so beautiful. Your eyes are like the water you see in those pictures of paradise. A color that can't be described because a word for it can't do it justice. And your hair is gold, like the sun. You're my paradise, Blue. You and Ark are all I have left."
"I'm yours, JD. If you want me, I'm yours."
"No, Blue," he whispers back. "You're ours. — J.A. Huss

Shake those stars from your hair, pretty Moonchild. It's time to dance with the noonday sun! — Jaeda DeWalt

I hurt your feelings before. But then, I don't think you were lacking in self-confidence. You must know that you're beautiful. Your hair is so golden and you have the bearing of a young Venus. Kristen, it isn't you. It's me. I haven't got any emotion left. I haven't got what you need, what you want. Damn it, don't you understand? I want you. I'm made out of flesh and blood and whatever else it is that God puts into men. I want you. Now. Hell, I could have wanted you right after I ripped another man away from you. I'm no better than he is, not really. Don't you understand? — Heather Graham

Oh," Cretia said, raking her with a smug sneer. "She's your bodyguard. I get it now. Makes sense, since she has more testosterone than both of you combined." She drifted off. Zarya glared at him as he finally released her. "You should have let me rip her hair out by the dyed roots." Maris tsked at her. "Oh please. The last thing you want to do is get her acidic blood on your beautiful dress. Think of the poor designer who'd curse you for the affront to his hard work." "Yes, — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Are your eyelashes like your hair?" "Yes. They're very beautiful - want to see?" Her lips twitched. "Vanity is a sin,Bluebell." "When you have it, flaunt it, I say." -Elena and Illium — Nalini Singh

And yet I shall try again: "they are murdering me!"
all right, all together once more: "they are murdering me!" and again: "murdering" ... I want to write this in such a way that you will cover your ears, your membranaceous, simian ears that you hide under strands of beautiful feminine hair
but I know them, I see them, I pinch them, the cold little things, I worry them with my fingers to somehow warm them, bring them to life, render them human, force them to hear me. — Vladimir Nabokov

It is far, far better never to have been beautiful.
If you're gorgeous you're going to get by absolutely fine everyone will always want you in the room and you'll be lavished with attention, which you'll do very little to earn. Whereas, if you look like a sack of offal thats been dropkicked down a lift-shaft into a pond, you're going to spend many of your formative years alone. this may seem miserable - but you'll have space, space that you can constructively use to discover and hone your skills, learn a language, develop an interest in cosmology, practice the oboe, do whatever you fancy, really, so long as it doesn't involve being looked at or snogging anyone. And you'll very likely emerge from your chrysalis aged twenty-five as a highly accomplished young thing ready to take on the world. meanwhile, The Beautiful Ones will have been so busy having boyfriends and brushing their hair that they'll just be ... who they always were. — Miranda Hart

I thought the force of my wanting must wake ye, surely. And then ye did come ... " He stopped, looking at me with eyes gone soft and dark. "Christ, Claire, ye were so beautiful, there on the stair, wi' your hair down and the shadow of your body with the light behind ye ... ." He shook his head slowly. "I did think I should die, if I didna have ye," he said softly. "Just then. — Diana Gabaldon

You're beautiful, every part of you. I love your hair, the way it looks, the way it feels. I love touching it, smelling it. I love the way you wrinkle your nose when you laugh. It makes me laugh, too, every time. And I love watching you eat. Sometimes you can't shovel it in fast enough, but when you get interested in a conversation, you forget there's anything in front of you. God knows, I love making love with you. I can't even talk about that without wanting you. I love your pathetic attachment to those seniors. I love how hard you work. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

It's everything, isn't it? It's the quiet dinners when not much gets said. It's the sunny days at the beach. It's hearing your laughter in my head when I see Kayla giggling. It's seeing the love in your eyes when you watch our baby sleep. It's watching the sun rise in your smile and set in your tears. It's the contentment in seeing you eat and sleep and study and play. It's the small, everyday things, like never getting tired of watching you tuck that same stubborn strand of hair behind your ear twenty times a day, and it's the huge life-altering things like seeing your smile and my eyes on our beautiful little girl's face. It's knowing that even if you turn away from me forever, I'll always be the better for having had you in my life. — Natasha Anders

Why me, Trav?"
I had a thing for you since the night of that first fight."
What?"
"It's true. You in that cardigan with blood all over you? You looked absolutely ridiculous,
"Thanks."
"It was when you looked up at me. That was the moment. You had this wide-eyeyed, innocent look ... no pretenses. You didn't look at me like I was Travis Maddox," "you looked at me like I was ... I don't know, a person I guess."
"News flash, Trav. You are a person."
No, before you came, Shepley was the only one that treated me like anyone else. You didn't get all awkward, or flirt, or run your fingers through your hair. You saw me."
"I was a complete bitch to you, Travis."
He kissed my neck. "That's what sealed the deal."
"I hope this gets old soon. I don't see myself ever getting tired of you."
"Promise?" he asked — Jamie McGuire

One morning early, I couldn't sleep, so I walked down to the beach. And I saw you. For a minute- I didn't realize it was you. You were wearing this long scarf thing tied around your waist, lots of wild colors, and it blew around your legs. You had on a red bathing suit under it."
"You ... " She literally had to catch her breath. "You remember what I was wearing?"
"Yes I do. And I remember your hair was longer than it is now, halfway down your back. All those mad curls flying. Bare feet. All that golden skin, wild colors, mad curls. My heart just stopped. I thought: That's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I wanted that woman, in a way I'd never wanted one before."
He stopped, turned a little as she simply stared at him. "Then I saw it was you. You walked off, down the beach, the surf foaming up over your bare feet, your ankles, your calves. And I wanted you. I thought I'd lost my my mind. — Nora Roberts

Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him. "Well, you know a lot more about me now," he snaps, his mouth presses into a hard line. "I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!" He says it like it's a really dirty word. "Hell, Ana, I just showed you ... " he groans. "May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?" "Of course I have." I try my best to look affronted. Okay ... maybe twice. "And a nice young man hasn't swept you off your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You're beautiful." He runs his hand through his hair again. Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I'm beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. — E.L. James

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

You looked so beautiful- your hair spread out around your head against the linoleum. Though your think brown curls had thinned since you'd started losing weight, they still fell in soft waves. You reminded me of a mermaid, your skin all shiny, your lips so full compared to the harshness of your angular cheekbones and pointed chin. — Steph Bowe

Are Cleo and Zadie beautiful?" I asked his throat in an uncontrolled utterance because even if I already knew, I still had to know, and felt his fingers bunch my hair reflexively. "They are," he rumbled. "So, so beautiful, baby." "I gave you them," I told him, fading, finally fucking fading. "You did, Millie," he agreed softly. "I gave you them. I gave you that Daddy they call you that warms you to your bones." He pulled me deeper into his arms, shifting into me, taking me to my back, smothering me with his weight and heat, drowning me with his scent, but he said nothing. Still fading, I murmured, "I gave you them. — Kristen Ashley

She was grown up; she was twenty-nine! It was only recently that she'd been walking home from the hairdresser's, feeling gorgeous, and a gaggle of teenage girls walked by, and the sound of their strident giggles made her send a message back through time to her fourteen-year-old self: "Don't worry, it all works out. You get a personality, you get a job, you work out what to do with your hair, and you get a boy who thinks you're beautiful." She'd felt so together, as if all the teenage angst and the failed relationships before Nick had all been part of a perfectly acceptable plan that was leading to this moment, when she would be twenty-nine years old and everything would finally be just as it should be. — Liane Moriarty

I left Kiki in the yard, and fetched my pick and brushes.
She lifted her leg and I dislodged the stone then pulled the shedding blade through her copper hair. After a while, I removed my cloak. When I finished, clumps of horse hair clung to my sweaty clothes.
You're beautiful and I need a bath, I said to her. Pasture or stall?
Stall. Nap time.
And what about your snooze before I groomed you?
Pre nap. — Maria V. Snyder

This is what nibbling your ear sounds like." Blake created a soundtrack for his teeth.
"This is what looking into your eyes sounds like." The notes were deep and beckoning.
"This is what my mind hears when my tongue is in your mouth." The kiss sounded steamy and delicate. The rhythm was her heartbeat as he sampled her mouth.
"But when you smile. When you smile it's ... "
Blake scooted the keyboard around behind her. He needed both hands.
She put her hands on his face and smiled in amazement as the music exploded. She couldn't imagine how her simple facial gesture could inspire such a majestic sound.
He smiled back. "One thousand nine hundred and ten."
"So many? Really?"
"Yes, really. And it's not nearly enough. I want to lose count, Livia. Make me lose count." His hands left the beautiful music and grabbed handfuls of her hair. — Debra Anastasia

Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian brought long hair into fashion among his countrymen, saying that it rendered those that were handsome more beautiful, and those that were deformed more terrible. To one that advised him to set up a democracy in Sparta, "Pray," said Lycurgus, "do you first set up a democracy in your own house. — Plutarch

I think you're beautiful," an old man at the counter - one of our Sunday night fixtures - says.
...
"You passed the Earl test," she says as she pours him a fresh cup.
"Ma, he says that to anyone who still has their own teeth. No offense, Earl."
"None taken," he says. "But you got your own hair too, so you're twice as pretty. — Sarah Ockler

Your hair," repeated Dimitri. His eyes were wide, almost awestruck. "Your hair is beautiful."
I didn't think so, not in its current state. of course, considering we were in a dark alley filled with bodies, the choices were kind of limited. "You see? You're not one of them. Strigoi don't see beauty. Only death. You found something beautiful. One thing that's beautiful."
Hesitantly, nervously, he ran his fingers along the strands I'd touched earlier. "But is it enough?"
"It is for now." I pressed a kiss to his forehead and helped him stand. "It is for now. — Richelle Mead

You're beautiful, Sid,' he says, pushing my hair out of my face. 'And I never said it at first because it seemed so obvious to me, so easy. I didn't say it because I never wanted you to think the things I say to you are just things. Empty compliments to get in your pants. I wanted the things I say to you to be extraordinary, because that's what you are to me. Extraordinary. And I'm so sorry I didn't say it sooner, because I think you need to hear it. You were beautiful a year ago and you're beautiful now. — Colleen Clayton