Blonde Hair Quotes

So a little pain on our quest was good. But I had to promise to not let you get killed." "I didn't think Lucifer cared." "He doesn't." Of course not. "My dad," Adexios stated with assurance. Blonde hair went whipping from side to side. "Try again. You're close." "You listened to my mom?" His exclamation emerged a tad high-pitched. "Why the hell would you do that? ~ Eve Langlais

When a sudden ray of sun or a moonbeam falls on a dreary street, it makes no difference what it illumines-a broken bottle on the ground, a fading flower in a field, or the flaxen blonde hair of a child's head. The object is transformed and the viewer is transfixed. Celebrate that moment of beauty and take it with you in your memory. It is God's gift to you. ~ Luci Swindoll

And then, standing there in my Godzilla t-shirt, her blonde hair combed to the side, she says, "Supergirls stand together." I had to say the rest, "Supergirls stay together. ~ Mav Skye

You are ours and he should have known not to touch you."
"I'm yours? I thought you hated me."
Kit stepped out of the bathroom. "We don't hate you. You're our pet."
"Kit!" Rusty shook her head. "Don't say that. You'll offend her."
Kit shrugged "She is. She's so little and cute. She yaps around trying to please like ... What are they called? A Yorkie?"
Rusty sighed. "We decided she's more similar to a cute little poodle with her long blonde hair." She flashed a smile at Ellie. "Don't take it offensively please. We enjoy having you around and you amuse us to no end. ~ Laurann Dohner

She had streaked blonde hair, long and straight, parted in the middle framing high cheek bones, an aquiline nose and beautiful deep blue eyes. She was young, around 30, tall and lithe with a good body, athletic, not skinny. She wore a sleeveless black dress that exposed her toned arms and shoulders, indicating regular workouts or yoga. There was a hint of vein running the length of her lean muscle. This girl stood out like an arabian in a corral full of draft horses. ~ Nick Hahn

And yonder sits a maiden, The fairest of the fair, With gold in her garment glittering, And she combs her golden hair. ~ Heinrich Heine

This was it. I had front row seats to the beginning of Xander and Danielle. Tonight, he would kiss her if he hadn't already. Groping would ensue, and then removal of their clothes because they were in the way of the groping. Lips would be all over each other, hands touching parts only touched in private. Her blonde hair would spread over him as they moved like that in bed. Oh, they were going to have sex! The way they were dancing, they wouldn't even make it to a bed; it would be down in the fish room. Those poor fish wouldn't know it was coming, still happily sucking down their stinky flakes. They would scare the fish! ~ Ashlan Thomas

A single twist of white-blonde hair blew across her face and stuck to her half-frozen lips. When she noticed me, the edges of her eyes crinkled as though she were smiling, as if she had been waiting. ~ Julia Ember

But I don't believe I see Valentine Morgenstern. I hear he has charisma enough to draw birds out of trees and convince them to live under the sea, is tall, devastatingly handsome, and has white-blond hair. None of you fits that discription." Magnus paused. "And you don't have white-blonde hair either. ~ Cassandra Clare

The woman was very pretty. She had shortish honey-blonde hair, ~ Neil Gaiman

I had a bunch of different hair colors. I was experimenting to see what I liked. It started off brown, then I did red, then I got really, really blonde! ~ Leighton Meester

I believe that true beauty comes from inside you and that always shows through. I have no problem with whatever the next look is, whether it's big blonde hair and blue eyes or green hair and dark eyes. That's fine so long as there isn't just one ideal image. ~ Alek Wek

I have six brothers and sisters. We all look totally different: blonde hair, curly hair, green eyes, dark eyes, dark skin, light skin. It's just how it is. ~ Rashida Jones

The issue of the mysterious power of transmission arises here. What do you transmit to your child? Blonde hair, blue eyes, very small feet? But also a taste for cigarettes, panettone, boys with guitars? Is this foetus's life destined to be filled with suitcases packed in the middle of the night, suitcases that will always return to their point of departure some weeks later?

In other words, is this foetus destined to relive, again and again, emotions encoded in a fossilized region of its brain and thus, almost simultaneously, experience love and the end of the world, hope and lightning, a romantic comedy and a horror film? ~ Monica Sabolo

War thoughts again. I think back to the business cards from that health shop earlier on. I think about miniature wars that individuals fight all the time. They fight against cellulite, or negative emotions, or addictions, or stress. I think about how we can now hire all different sorts of mercenaries to help us fight against ourselves…Therapists, manicurists, hairdressers, personal trainers, life coaches. But what's it all for? What do all these little wars achieve? Although it is a part of my life too, and I want to be thin and pretty and not laughed at in the street and not so stressed and mad that I start screaming on the tube, it suddenly seems a little bit ridiculous. All the time we do these things we are trying to enlist ourselves into a bigger war. We are trying to join up, constantly, with the enemy.
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Hitler tried to impose his shiny, blonde, neat, sparkling world on us all and we resisted. So how is it that when McDonald's and Disney and The Gap and L'Oreal and all the others try to do the same thing we all just say, 'OK'? Hitler needed marketing, that's all. His propaganda was, of course, brilliant for its time, everyone knows that. What a great idea, to make people feel that they belong to something, that their identity makes them special. If Hilter had bee able to enlist a twenty-first-century marketing department, would he have been able to sell Nazism to everyone? Why not? You can just see a beautiful, thin woman with her long blonde hair moving sof ~ Scarlett Thomas

I went through a real punk stage-I had braids, red hair, pink hair, green hair, I cut it into a Mohawk, the lot. Then about five years ago, I dyed it dark and stayed out of the sun to get pale, because I hated looking like everyone else, all blonde hair and tanned skin. ~ Katie McGrath

I was traveling on our tour bus through Europe and I was thinking I want to have long blonde hair. ~ Nina Hagen

grabbing his massive throbbing cock with both hands. I licked around the head and down the shaft of his cock as if I were savoring a lollypop. He grabbed a handful of my long, blonde hair and used it as leverage to fuck my mouth. I took his cock so far down my throat, I nearly choked. I didn't care. It was what I had been wanting. I took his cock with my mouth until my gag reflex begged me to stop, but I didn't. I just let him fuck my mouth like it would be the last time any of us would ever fuck ~ Lilith Fox

The girls seemed unconcerned and went about their days, each as lovely in their own way as the flowers they tended. Sorrel's black hair became streaked with premature white, which gave her an exotic air, although the elegance was somewhat ruined by the muddy jeans and shorts she practically lived in. Nettie, on the other hand, had a head of baby-fine blonde hair that she wore short, thinking, wrongly, that it would look less childlike. Nettie wouldn't dream of being caught in dirty jeans and was always crisply turned out in khaki capris or a skirt and a white shirt. She considered her legs to be her finest feature. She was not wrong.
Patience was the sole Sparrow redhead, although her hair had deepened from its childhood ginger and was now closer to the color of a chestnut. It was heavy and glossy as a horse's mane, and she paid absolutely no attention to it or to much else about her appearance, nor did she have to. In the summer her wide-legged linen trousers and cut-off shorts were speckled with dirt and greenery, her camisoles tatty and damp. The broad-brimmed hat she wore to pick was most often dangling from a cord down her back. As a result, the freckles that feathered across her shoulders and chest were the color of caramel and resistant to her own buttermilk lotion (Nettie smoothed it on Patience whenever she could make her stand still). When it was terribly hot, Patience wore the sundresses she'd found packed away in the attic. She knew they were her mother's, an ~ Ellen Herrick

Madge, her eldest sister, looked about forty, rather than thirty two. Her black dress drained her of colour; her shoulders had adopted their perpetual hunched position, which she had adopted to compensate for her height. As a child Madge had towered over her peers, stopping only when she reached five foot eleven. Lesley knew, without seeing them, that she would be wearing the usual flat shoes, the only footwear she would allow anywhere near her size eight feet. Sitting beside Madge, Pamela, her youngest sister, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, was thankfully dressed fairly decorously in a black coat over a black pinstripe tunic dress with a high neckline. Remembering Pamela's usual mode of dress, Lesley could only deduce that their mother must have prevailed upon her this time, in deference to the occasion. To her left Alan, at twenty four, the baby of the family, was talking in low tones to his girlfriend Erica, his fair hair and her dark locks forming a striking contrast. From Erica's expression however, she guessed that Alan was currently on the receiving end of her infamous (and often malicious) acerbic wit.


~ Phyl Wright

Through the light splaying off the roof, Angela's falling blonde hair looked cream-colored, intricately stitched together like a veil. ~ Greg Metcalf

She had been lying there, facedown in the water long before the tide had turned at 3.04 that morning. Her eyes were staring into the river, her blonde hair first fanning out, then drawing back under her head with the wash of the water, like a pulsating jellyfish. The belt of her raincoat was caught on the branches of an overhanging tree and she'd been hooked, destined to forever flap against the corner of the broken pier with outstretched arms. She wasn't going anywhere now; she was simply bobbing up and down with the rhythm of the water - and she hadn't blinked in a long while. ~ A.J. Waines

For so long I hid behind the blonde hair and the blue eyes. Now I feel like I've done it, I've done what I set out to achieve, now I can just go back to being me. ~ Jodie Marsh

My hair had been dyed blonde for 'Dredd.' After 'Dredd,' I was really fried because of the blonde hair dye, and so I cut it into a bob with bangs and that's how it was during 'Being Flynn.' ~ Olivia Thirlby

Kendall looks like you. Except for the blonde hair," he said thoughtfully again. "What," I asked confused. "Kendall? She reminds me of you. I can't help but think that if you don't want to be my ... well," he cleared his throat, then continued, "maybe I'll have her take your place." "If you DARE go near my sister, so help me I will - " "You have thirty days to decide then," he said cutting me off. I ~ Yolanda Olson

Lady Helen, who had been accompanied by her husband, Mr. Rhys Winterborne, was far more reserved than the twins. Instead of Pandora's raw and radiant energy, or Cassandra's effervescent charm, she possessed a quality of sweet, patient gravity. With her silver-blonde hair and willowy slenderness, Helen seemed as ethereal as a figure form from a painting by Bougereau. ~ Lisa Kleypas

You have that look on your face," Alessandro said, smiling as he tucked a damp lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. "What look?" Bree asked, resting a hand on his flushed chest, propping herself up on one elbow. She could feel the racing
heart beneath. "The look of a woman who's been rather well fucked, darling," he grinned smugly. She punched his chest lightly. "Ego much?" "I see nothing wrong with taking pride in a job well done," he pointed out. "Oh of course," Bree said, laughing and dropped her head on his chest. ~ E. Jamie

Alessandro gathered her into his arms and flipped her over so that she was on top of him, her blonde hair falling over him like a gold curtain. The strands tickled his face as she righted herself over him. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as he pushed up inside of her, and Alessandro reached up, bringing her mouth down, wanting to taste that swollen lip. Her breath wafted over his face, and he grabbed her hips, pulling her down as he pushed up deeper, wanting to fill her to her very soul. ~ E. Jamie

No, that I love you. I love you, Isabel Marie Nichols, and I have since the first day I watched your golden blonde hair dance in the sunlight. That day, you became mine. ~ A.M. Willard

After a hit show is over, you soon realize this is a very tough business ... brutally tough. But I'm a better actor and I have more gravitas than I had at 24 with bleached-blonde hair. ~ Jack Coleman

A few moments passed by until I heard a door open, a few light footsteps then a whisper,"If she has blonde hair, a mole on her left cheek and huge tits, close the door right fucking now. ~ L.A. Casey

Mama once told me before she died that my blonde hair makes the sun go wild with envy. ~ Kyle Labe

I really fought to make my character not a stereotype. I play a soap star with dyed blonde hair. ~ Sadie Frost

In 'Thor,' that was my own hair. I grew it out. But I have naturally curly, blonde hair, so I'll never look like that. By the time I got to 'The Avengers,' I had come off two other films, which required me to have it very short. So I dyed it again and it was long enough to use a part of my hairline. ~ Tom Hiddleston

Short blonde hair, big rectangular forehead, like Frankenstein made a second monster, and that monster loved death metal and Twinkies. ~ Scott Kelly

I'm a natural blonde. But when I started acting, I would go to auditions and they didn't know where to put me because I was voluptuous and had the accent, but I had blonde hair. It was ignorance: they thought every Latin person looks like Salma Hayek. ~ Sofia Vergara

Yeah," Stoney muttered, "easy. Except for all the guns and the running around and the chance that somebody might try to follow you. Or that somebody might recognize you. You've been on TV, if you'll recall."
"Ah, but I thought of that," she returned, reaching into a sack beside her and pulling out a blonde wig.
"I hope that thing's bulletproof," her former fence said dourly.
She smiled at Rick. "Is it true, Mr. Addison?" she chirped, pulling on the headpiece. "Do billionaires prefer blondes?"
He snorted, reaching across the table to twist a strand of the golden blonde hair in his fingers. "You look good in any color, Yank. If being blonde will get you out of the Met safely, then yes, today I prefer blondes."
She stood, leaning over to kiss him on his sensuous mouth. "Good answer. ~ Suzanne Enoch

Come with me if you want to live."
Neva stared at the enormous hand the stranger extended her. Her gaze followed the black leather-clad arm up to the massive shoulders, the strong jaw, and the thick lock of wavy blonde hair hanging over his dark glasses. "You have so got to be kidding me," she said.
He shrugged. "I always wanted to say that line. Except I'm not kidding. ~ Dani Harper

I've always had a booty even when I was a baby, and when I was in high school and was skinny, I still had the booty. In Hollywood's eyes, the perfect women has to be a stick figure, tall, blonde hair, with big boobs. ~ Coco Austin

We've got 400,000 girls with beach-y blonde hair, the same nose, gigantic lips, implants in their cheeks, and little Chicklets for teeth. Are they really prettier? ~ Sharon Stone

Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
All women in the magic of her locks;
And when she winds them round a young man's neck,
She will not ever set him free again. ~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

They entered the summer parlor, where the Ravenels chatted amiably with his sisters, Phoebe and Seraphina.
Phoebe, the oldest of the Challon siblings, had inherited their mother's warm and deeply loving nature, and their father's acerbic wit. Five years ago she had married her childhood sweetheart, Henry, Lord Clare, who had suffered from a chronic illness for most of his life. The worsening symptoms had gradually reduced him to a shadow of the man he'd once been, and he'd finally succumbed while Phoebe was pregnant with their second child. Although the first year of mourning was over, Phoebe hadn't yet returned to her former self. She went outdoors so seldom that her freckles had vanished, and she looked wan and thin. The ghost of grief still lingered in her gaze.
Their younger sister, Seraphina, an effervescent eighteen-year-old with strawberry-blonde hair, was talking to Cassandra. Although Seraphina was old enough to have come out in society by now, the duke and duchess had persuaded her to wait another year. A girl with her sweet nature, her beauty, and her mammoth dowry would be targeted by every eligible man in Europe and beyond. For Seraphina, the London Season would be a gauntlet, and the more prepared she was, the better. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Blonde hair and black hair are the two poles of human nature. Black hair signifies virility, courage, frankness, activity, whereas blonde hair symbolises femininity, tenderness, weakness, and passivity. Therefore a blonde is in fact doubly a woman. A princess can only be blonde. That's also why, to be as feminine as possible, women dye their hair yellow- but never black"

"I'm curious about how pigments exercise their influence over the human soul", said Bertlef doubtfully.
"it's not a matter of pigments. A blonde unconsciously adapts herself to her hair. Especially if the blonde is a brunette who dyes her hair yellow. She tries to be faithful to her hair colour and behaves like a fragile creature, a shallow doll, she demands tenderness and service, courtesy and alimony, she's incapable of doing anything for herself, all refinement on the outside and coarseness on the inside. If black hair became a universal fashion, life on this world would clearly be better. It would be the most useful social reform ever achieved. ~ Milan Kundera

Have you met my new dancer?"
The girl approached and he was able to dink in the sigh of her with a slackened jaw. Her short, icy-blonde hair wisped around her face, drawing him in to her deep brown eyes. Her brows had a strong arch to them that made her look as though she was either intrigued or annoyed. Beau didn't care so long as she was looking at him. He liked his lips absently, letting his gaze sweep over her face for a moment more. He couldn't stop his brain from picturing her smearing the shimmering pink gloss from her perfect mouth all over his body. Leaving her mark. He cursed in his thoughts again. Who the hell was this girl and what was she doing to him?
He cleared his throat and extended his hand toward her coolly. "Beau Harris, nice to meet you," he said.
The corner of the young woman's mouth twitched and she took his hand before her eyes darted to Vanessa.
"Beau!" Vanessa barked. He glanced at her and reluctantly dropped the dancer's hand. He looked between the two woman for a moment and tried to keep his gaze up and off the stranger's tight, tanned stomach.
"What?" He bit back.
Vanessa huffed and a cackled cracked out of her throat. "You losing eyesight in your old age? That's Whitney. My little sister," she said, drawing out her words out like he was an idiot. ~ Kate Roth

She was everything he loved about a woman wrapped up in a cute little package. Golden blonde hair was secured to the top of her head in a ponytail, he bet it would reach her waist when it was loose. Her body was curvy in all the right places, her breasts more than filled out the T-shirt she was wearing and those hips, dang he could just imagine holding onto them while she rode him, instead of Big Red. ~ Tamara Hoffa

I leave her to chemically combust and find Wren in the student council office, filling out extremely interesting paperwork. He's buried behind piles of the stuff. I can barely see tufts of his blonde hair poking out. I reach into the paperwork pile and shove the two halves aside. Hundreds of them fall off the desk and to the floor. Papers drift through the air like snowflakes. Fat, boring-ass snowflakes. Wren looks up, face slack with shock.
"Whatcha doing?" I ask.
"Dividing up funding for the other clubs," He whispers, clearly distraught. A paper plops onto his head and slides off dejectedly. I'm respectful for three seconds.
"So anyway, I had this nightmare in which Jack was sexy and Kayla died. ~ Sara Wolf

Blonde hair drawn into a no-nonsense bun, her new manicure the deep red of fresh blood, she'd even donned a blouse and slacks for the occasion, something Neve had forgotten Veronica owned. ~ Katherine McIntyre

I think my wife saw a picture of the rock group Journey, and they're kind of aging, and the one guy had dyed blonde hair with black roots, and ... my idea was to get a little earring, I wanted to have a dangling earring. ~ Fred Willard

You okay?" Keefe asked, flicking a strand of her blonde hair to get her attention. "And before you answer, remember: You're talking to an Empath. Plus, you've already pulled put two eyelashes since we got here, and I can tell you're dying to go for a third."

She was. ~ Shannon Messenger

A woman with super long platinum blonde hair, a fake tan, injected bubble gum pink lips, and a large boob job came in. Phoebe showed her where to set up in front of us and we all sat patiently.
"Hello, I'm Tandy" I almost rolled my eyes at her name, given her appearance. She placed a case on the coffee table in front of us, opened it, and pulled out rubber penises. I almost shot my drink out of my nose, again. "I will be instructing you on proper blow job technique."
"Oh my God, Phoebe." I shouted at her.
"Yeah," Viola clapped her hands and reached out to be the first to get a rubber practice penis. ~ Sadie Grubor

Eve supposed everything about Nadine looked mag, from her sweep of streaky blonde hair to the toes of her jazzed shoes. She had a foxy, angular face, observant green eyes, and a slim body that curved appropriately in her on-camera suit of power red. She was smart, she was sneaky, she was cynical. And for reasons Eve imagined neither of them fully understood, they'd become friends. ~ J.D. Robb

I grew up in a predominantly Caucasian community, and most of my friends had blonde hair and blue eyes. So I was always straightening my hair, wearing colored contacts, and I never tanned, if I could help it. ~ Shay Mitchell

I'm an African woman, I suppose these thoughts torture me more than they do black American people, because it's like watching my own children trapped in a car that's sinking to the bottom of a lake and being impotent to save them'the black Americans have their own holocaust going on. You see the black man erasing black children from the landscape, you see black women desperately trying to get the black man's attention by wearing blonde hair and fake blue eyes, 500 years after he sold her and their children across the ocean. ~ Kola Boof

I definitely believe in type casting. If you're a girl with bleach-blonde hair, everyone automatically thinks 'prom queen, cheerleader.' It just happens. ~ Cassie Scerbo

They're always such alive females. And also, all those love stories - no man in Austen has ever fallen in love with a female heroine because she's pretty or beautiful or has long, blonde hair. They fall in love with them because of who they are, because of their vibrancy and their intelligence and if only we were teaching that a bit more in schools. ~ Anna Maxwell Martin

She was sitting on her own long blonde hair, which Susannah had noted came to just under her rear, cupping it in a provocative way. ~ Leigh Riker

Naturally as a kid, I was inspired by Sting. I remember seeing him with the blonde hair, the neon tights, and the painted face. ~ Jeff Hardy

A woman with long, blonde hair stood for a moment on the other side of the door. She looked similar to his date. Was she entering or leaving the coffee house?
Before Paul could confirm her identity or stand and run after her, she strode away and disappeared in the crowd. ~ Cheryl Sterling

A radiant glow enveloped Alaura. Soft eruptions of various shades of effervescent green danced in the air and frolicked in the locks of her dark blonde hair. Whispers of yellows and blues revealed themselves near the skin, kissing the air with each leap. ~ Diane Lynn McGyver

Her honey-blonde hair is strewn across her face as she sways her head. She's working a red sequined bikini separated by a tan, flat stomach, and a butterfly tattoo resting on her left hip. Her legs are clad in black fishnets that run into a pair of white-heeled boots - still a knockout. ~ Kevin James Moore

I was blessed with blonde hair and a baby face - well, I don't know if you'd call that blessed - I don't even remember when I started shaving. ~ Clay Matthews III

Funny how a wife can spot a blonde hair at twenty yards, yet miss the garage doors. ~ Corey Ford

Are you actually good looking?" she asks skeptically.

"Terribly good looking," I reply.

"Let me guess. Dark hair, brown eyes, great abs, white teeth, Abercrombie & Fitch."

"Close," I say. "Light brown hair, correct on the eyes, abs, and teeth, but American Eagle Outfitters all the way."

"Impressive," she says.

"My turn," I say. "Thick blonde hair, big blue eyes, an adorable little white dress with a matching hat, royal blue skin, and you're about two feet tall."

She laughs loudly. "You have a thing for Smurfette?"

"A guy can dream. ~ Colleen Hoover

The new acts' major influences were movies and their curvy queens Brigitte Bardot and Marilyn Monroe. With their big blonde hair, ample breasts, and highly fertile hips, these bombshells inspired women everywhere to exxagerate their own voluptuousness. ~ Dita Von Teese

We match each other stroke for stroke until I get a hit on her right arm.

She tries to switch sword arms, but I jab my scim at her wrist faster than she can parry. Her scim goes flying, and I tackle her. Her white-blonde hair tumbles free of her bun.

"Surrender!" I pin her down at the wrists, but she trashes and rips one arm free, scrabbling for a dagger at her waist. Steel stabs at my ribs, and seconds later, I am on my back with a blade at my throat.

"Ha!" She leans down, her hair falling around us like a shimmering silver curtain. ~ Sabaa Tahir

After a while, the letter became soft and moist. When I glanced up I could see, although
initially indistinctly, soft downy blonde hair with a large, gold, buckle intermingled there. This was
seeing with all my senses. ~ Thomas Ullman

She's fifteen years younger, in her mid-thirties, and at six feet, four inches, the tallest woman he knows personally. With short blonde hair and Scandinavian features, she's not beautiful exactly, but regal. Often severe without trying. He once told her she has resting monarch face. ~ Blake Crouch

She was so beautiful and seemed so unaware of it. The wisps of blonde hair danced around her pink-tinted cheeks just as he had captured them in his painting. But even more devastating than her physical beauty were the glimpses he had seen of her heart and soul. God help him. ~ Melanie Dickerson

both had strawberry blonde hair, fair skin and long legs, their personalities were night and day. ~ Allison Goh

In the light of the crappy little lamp, all I was looking at was a frizzy mop of blonde hair and a bare back with one big angry red patch on it, but Jesus fucking God she was beautiful, and if you don't understand that, I'm sorry for you. ~ John Barnes

She had blonde hair like spaghetti noodles, and then she went and dyed it marinara. But I loved her like I enjoy all-you-can-eat pasta buffets. ~ Jarod Kintz

How far could you trace back such a chain, he wondered, past the Harmon girl being chosen that night to bring his food, past the tree shattering a man's backbone due to a badly notched trunk, past that to an axe unsharpened because a man drank too much the night before, past that to why the man had gotten drunk in the first place? Was it something you never found the end to? Or was there no chain at all, just a moment when you did or didn't step close to a young woman and let you fingers brush a fall of blonde hair behind her ears, did or did not lean to that uncovered ear and tell her that you found her quite fetching." ~G. Pemberton (58) ~ Ron Rash

That's when I caught my first glimpse of Blaine Crabtree. He was sandwiched in between two guys that were laughing at who knows what. At first I didn't notice anything but a big mop of bleached blonde hair, then he looked up from his pack of cloves and I was locked into the bluest eyes that I had ever seen. His expression didn't change, he didn't smile and didn't blink. It seemed like I was lost in his eyes, like he was using them to do the most calculated math problem, and that math problem was me. ~ Magan Vernon

(…) met the owner of this cozy book-and-candle Apt. G, a tall, leggy, striking girl named Bea or maybe just the letter B or maybe the insect Bee, not sure, her long blond hair pulled in a ponytail, her no-doubt banging body effortlessly buried beneath a pile of tights and sweaters and scarves – she is a walking coat rack – and as we shook hands, Bea fixed me with the most alarming blue-eyed stare of my life, the kind of stare in which you think some potent subliminal message is being passed along (Run away with me or maybe just Run away), (…) ~ Jess Walter

They go the long way but we take the short cut Give me the blonde hair, long weave, short cut ~ Nicki Minaj

HYMN OF THE DIVINE DANDELION

I am born as the sun,
But then turn into the moon,
As my blonde hairs turn
Grayish-white and fall
To the ground,
Only to be buried again,
Then to be born again,
Into a thousand suns
And a thousand
Moons.

Suzy Kassem ~ Suzy Kassem

My long, blonde hair has been my trademark ever since I started modelling in the Seventies, when I was scouted sunbathing in St Tropez. ~ Jerry Hall

Just above Tommy's face were the Maiden and the Troll, two of his oldest wall people. The troll lived in a cave deep in the woods. He was big (Tommy knew the troll was even bigger than his daddy, and if the troll told his daddy to sit down and shut up, he would in a second), and he looked scary, with his little eyes and crooked teeth like fangs, but he had a secret. The secret was that he wasn't scary at all. He liked to read, and play chess by mail with a gnome from over by the closet wall, and he never killed anything. The troll was a good troll, but everyone judged him by his looks. And that, Tommy knew, was a mean thing to do, though everyone did it.
The maiden was very beautiful. Even more beautiful than Tommy's mommy. She had long blonde hair that fell in heavy curls to her waist, and big blue eyes, and she always smiled even though her family was poor. She came into the woods near the troll's cave to get water from a spring, for her family. The spring bubbled out of Tommy's wall right next to where his hand lay when he was asleep. Sometimes she only came and filled her jug and left. But other times she would sit awhile, and sing songs of love lost, and sailing ships, and the kings and queens of Elfland. And the troll, so hideous and so kind, would listen to her soft voice from the shadows just inside the entrance of his cave, which sat just below the shelf where Tommy kept his favorite toys and books.
Tommy felt bad for the troll. He loved the maiden who came ~ Michael Kanuckel

True beauty isn't long blonde hair or her eyes of crystal blue
or how big and round her belly is or how far her breast protrude
her beauty lies within her heart and its soul that lives below
taking time to journey there you'll find treasures never known!
-Richard M Knittle Jr. ~ Richard M. Knittle Jr.

I couldn't compete with Honesty,

With her dark blonde hair streaked with auburn,
With her captivating blue eyes,
With her legs that stretched into forever.
She had the brains,
The body,
The perfect resume for girlfriend.

And me?
I had the perfect resume for
Best friend.
All the boys said so. ~ Elana Johnson

I was in King Lear with Sir Tom Courtenay at The Royal Exchange in Manchester. In fact, that's where I met my husband. I was playing Regan and he was playing Cornwall and together we fell in love plucking out Gloucester's eyes. It was great fun. Everyone assumes that I was Cordelia because I've got blonde hair but I was Regan and they gave me a long auburn wig. It was great, good fun. ~ Ashley Jensen

Imagine you're sitting having dinner in a restaurant. At some point during the meal, your companion leans over and whispers that they've spotted Lady Gaga eating at the table opposite. Before having a look for yourself, you'll no doubt have some sense of how much you believe your friends theory. You'll take into account all of your prior knowledge: perhaps the quality of the establishment, the distance you are from Gaga's home in Malibu, your friend's eyesight. That sort of thing. If pushed, it's a belief that you could put a number on. A probability of sorts. As you turn to look at the woman, you'll automatically use each piece of evidence in front of you to update your belief in your friend's hypothesis Perhaps the platinum-blonde hair is consistent with what you would expect from Gaga, so your belief goes up. But the fact that she's sitting on her own with no bodyguards isn't, so your belief goes down. The point is, each new observations adds to your overall assessment. This is all Bayes' theorem does: offers a systematic way to update your belief in a hypothesis on the basis of the evidence. It accepts that you can't ever be completely certain about the theory you are considering, but allows you to make a best guess from the information available. So, once you realize the woman at the table opposite is wearing a dress made of meat -- a fashion choice that you're unlikely to chance up on in the non-Gaga population -- that might be enough to tip your belief over the thresho ~ Hannah Fry

I'm extremely proud of being Latin; it's a big part of my life. It's not something I outwardly promote, just like I don't outwardly promote that I have green eyes and blonde hair. It's a part of who I am. I love the richness of the culture I grew up within. ~ Joanna Garcia

In the Kurdish part of town, he saw many children with blonde hair and blue or green eyes. There were even some with hair red as fire. ~ R.A. Mathis

I read because the women that I liked when I was a teenager lived down in Greenwich Village and they all had those black clothes. The Jules Feiffer women with the black leather bags and the blonde hair and the silver earrings and they all had read Proust and Kafka and Nietzche. And so when I said, 'No, the only thing I've ever read were two books by Mickey Spillane,' they would look at their watch and I was out. So in order to be able to carry on a conversation with these women who I thought were so beautiful and fascinating, I had to read. So I read. But it wasn't something I did out of love. I did it out of lust. ~ Woody Allen

I tuck a strand of my dyed blonde hair behind my ear. It's waist-length and has a habit of being everywhere all the time. Like right now. I am pretty much swaddled in it. I empathize greatly with Rapunzel. She had it rough. ~ Krista Ritchie

I do, I kick major butt in 'Dredd.' I get to kill people. I break a guy's neck by roundhouse kicking him in the face. It was me, I did it. I learned how to roundhouse kick. I also do it with my hands cuffed behind my back so it's pretty cool I have to say. Yeah, leather body suit, blonde hair, the whole thing. ~ Olivia Thirlby

When I have really blonde hair, I usually go for a more natural look, wearing way less makeup. ~ Olivia Wilde

Let me guess. Dark hair, brown eyes, great abs, white teeth, Abercrombie & Fitch." "Close," I say. "Light brown hair, correct on the eyes, abs, and teeth, but American Eagle Outfitters all the way." "Impressive," she says. "My turn," I say. "Thick blonde hair, big blue eyes, an adorable little white dress with a matching hat, royal blue skin, and you're about two feet tall." She laughs loudly. "You have a thing for Smurfette? ~ Colleen Hoover

As Harry Potter was the only other thing I was passionate about, the doctors gave consent for me to leave the hospital and collect the fifth Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, from the local book shop. I was so ecstatic to have the book and excited to begin reading it, but there was never any hint of your imminent arrival and the way you would change my life so drastically. Luna, you instantly captivated me. I didn't know why but there was something about you with your upside-down magazine, straggly blonde hair, and the honest, abashed way you stared at people without blinking that fascinated and perplexed me at once. You laughed hysterically at one of Ron's quips and didn't stop to excuse yourself and feel ashamed when it became clear that everyone found you strange. Throughout the book, I found myself waiting for your brief appearances and wanting to know more about you and why you were the way you were. You baffled me, not because you were odd (though indeed you were), but because you were… perfect. But it was a different kind of perfect to the perfectly thin, smiling magazine girls I simultaneously idolised and reviled. It was the way you carried your oddness like it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn't market your oddness as your defining feature the way some insecure teenagers do, in guise of confidence and security. And nor were you oblivious to the awkward and uncomfortable feelings your oddness provoked in others. When, unabl ~ Evanna Lynch

I never have had blonde hair. I have never had straight hair. I never wear pink clothes or spray tan and I never wore heels to school. ~ Carly Chaikin

I think my moment of revelation came when I saw this young man come on court in the most flamboyant clothes. He had a sweet smile and questionably blonde hair and a generally chirpy glamour that in fact concealed huge skill. When he was interviewed he confessed to hating to get angry and it was also said that he slithered out of winning when it came to the big matches. And I thought, My God! This Andre Agassi is the image of Howl in my book HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE! ~ Diana Wynne Jones

Being blonde is definitely a different state of mind. I can't really put my finger on it, but the artifice of being blonde has some incredible sort of sexual connotation. Men really respond to it. I love blonde hair but it really does something different to you. I feel more grounded when I have dark hair, and I feel more ethereal when I have light hair. It's unexplainable. I also feel more Italian when my hair is dark. ~ Madonna Ciccone

I turned at this new voice, a female voice with a deep country twang. My mouth dropped open at what I saw. Dolly Parton, or a fair impersonation of her, was standing in the doorway. Big blonde hair, tiny body, enormous knockers, wearing a pink negligee set, complete with marabou feathers, even on the high-heeled slippers she wore. I realized she wasn't Dolly because she had to be my age, or maybe a year or two older. ~ Kristen Ashley

Pigpen is in his late twenties and thinks he's all handsome with his blonde hair and big muscles. Because he was a Navy SEAL or Army Ranger or something outrageous like that, he also thinks he's awesome, but he doesn't impress. ~ Katie McGarry

Emma's eyelids flew open, and her expectant gaze honed in on the mirror, peering in wonder at Noah's tiny head. "Aw, Em, it looks like he's got strawberry blonde hair!" Casey commented.
Aidan grinned. "Nah, I think it's redder, and he's more of a Ginger."
She gritted her teeth at him. "Don't you dare call our son a Ginger! ~ Katie Ashley

I was a punk rocker when I was a teenager. I wanted to look like Nancy Spungen. I had dyed blonde hair and lots of piercings. ~ Noomi Rapace

I waltzed into the hall with my escort of five screws like some rapper with his well-paid entourage. A fiendish looking, little bastard with blonde hair and a crooked nose came up to me and said, 'Okay, Holland, welcome to Shotts. Welcome to the man-eater! ~ Stephen Richards

You start noticing that people are noticing how you look, and it is a profoundly alienating experience when it first happens, where you go on TV and you say something about some topic of the day, and on the Internet people are like, 'What was up with that shirt?' 'What was up with your hair?' And you think, 'Oh, that's kind of a bummer.' ~ Chris Hayes

When You Return

Fallen leaves will climb back into trees.
Shards of the shattered vase will rise
and reassemble on the table.
Plastic raincoats will refold
into their flat envelopes. The egg,
bald yolk and its transparent halo,
slide back in the thin, calcium shell.
Curses will pour back into mouths,
letters un-write themselves, words
siphoned up into the pen. My gray hair
will darken and become the feathers
of a black swan. Bullets will snap
back into their chambers, the powder
tamped tight in brass casings. Borders
will disappear from maps. Rust
revert to oxygen and time. The fire
return to the log, the log to the tree,
the white root curled up
in the un-split seed. Birdsong will fly
into the lark's lungs, answers
become questions again.
When you return, sweaters will unravel
and wool grow on the sheep.
Rock will go home to mountain, gold
to vein. Wine crushed into the grape,
oil pressed into the olive. Silk reeled in
to the spider's belly. Night moths
tucked close into cocoons, ink drained
from the indigo tattoo. Diamonds
will be returned to coal, coal
to rotting ferns, rain to clouds, light
to stars sucked back and back
into one timeless point, the way it was
before the world was born,
that fresh, that whole, nothing
broken, nothing torn apart. ~ Ellen Bass