Brushing Hair Quotes

I'm all for a real home," I said, brushing hair from her face, "but before that, can we please have a real honeymoon? ~ Richelle Mead

A good hard fuck later, she stared at me in a sleepy way. Raven needed more rest after all our fun. I know I sure as hell did.
"My dick needs a nap," I told her while brushing hair away from her face.
"I should go."
Resting on my back, I sighed. "I need a nap too."
"After we sleep, you'll drive me to my car, so I can go home?" she muttered with her eyes half closed.
"No, we'll get something to eat then I'll take you to Jodi's for your car."
"Getting something to eat sounds like a date and I'm not dating anyone," she said, forcing her eyes open.
"It's not a date, crabapple. We're friends with benefits. We've done the benefits. Now, let's do the friend crap."
"I don't want to be your friend," she said, cuddling up against my arm.
Smirking, I pulled a sheet over us. "Of course, you do. I'm awesome."
"I don't want to eat with you."
"You need to keep your strength up, Raven, because I'm really looking forward to fucking you at your place. Doing a chick in more than one location is my thing."
A grinning Raven nuzzled the "Hungry Like a Wolf" tattoo on my shoulder. "You're an idiot."
"Fuck you, darling. I'm the Einstein of the Reapers. Now, shut up and go to sleep. ~ Bijou Hunter

Jeb smiles - a genuine Jebediah Holt grin, complete with dimples. Such a beautiful distraction. "I love you, skater girl."
The nickname winds through me, comforting and sweet. I smooth my palm across his shoulder. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"No ... the other part," I plead.
He pulls my body to his, so our mouths come together in a warm, soft kiss. "Skater girl," he whispers against me, brushing hair from my face. ~ A.G. Howard

I brushed it until it shone and looked somewhat like it used to look,
only far thinner, and less glorious. ~ V.C. Andrews

Did you ever notice how very fickle males are?" she asked the horse. "And how very foolish females are about them?" she added, aware of how inexplicably deflated she felt. She realized as well that she was being completely irrational-she had not intended to come here, had not wanted him to be waiting, and now she felt almost like crying because he wasn't!
Giving the ribbons of her bonnet an impatient jerk, she untied them. Pulling the bonnet off, she pushed the back door of the cottage open, stepped inside-and froze in shock!
Standing at the opposite side of the small room, his back to her, was Ian Thornton. His dark head was slightly bent as he gazed at the cheery little fire crackling in the fireplace, his hands shoved into the back waistband of his gray riding breeches, his booted foot upon the grate. He'd taken off his jacket, and beneath his soft lawn shirt his muscles flexed as he withdrew his right hand and shoved it through the side of his hair. Elizabeth's gaze took in the sheer male beauty of his wide, masculine shoulders, his broad back and narrow waist.
Something in the somber way he was standing-added to the fact that he'd waited more than two hours for her-made her doubt her earlier conviction that he hadn't truly cared whether she came or not. And that was before she glanced sideways and saw the table. Her heart turned over when she saw the trouble he'd taken: A cream linen tablecloth covered with crude china, obviously borrowed from Charise's h ~ Judith McNaught

I bought a Christmas tree for twenty dollars. When I came home the next day, my wife was wearing it in her hair. ~ Milton Berle

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

One day, you're 19
And the boy who broke your heart a year ago, is now off in some parallel lifetime from you, breaking someone else's heart.

It's not you this time
But you understand how she will hurt.

You're still wearing your red lipstick
Still squatting
Still blossoming.

And you cut your hair off because you didn't want to be defined by your looks.

You make drastic changes
And end up wearing more black
Than you did before.
You're beautiful.

You started telling yourself that in the mirror because you started recognizing your worth.
You slick your short hair back
And smile.

You're happy.
And for once, that's all that matters. ~ Zienab Hamdan

When you've got four people to get dressed to get out the door, you don't really tend to spend a lot of time on yourself. But that's the way I roll anyway. I was never one to do my hair and make-up just to go down to the market, so it's really not that much different. If I get a little eye cream on, I feel like I'm ahead of myself. ~ Julia Roberts

Pulling me in and closing the door behind us. I barely have time to look around before she's kissing me, her hands finding my waist. I kiss her back, running my fingers through her hair, my favorite part the soft downy fuzz that's growing in from when she shaved it before school started. ~ Amber Smith

I watch Mustang slink toward me along the rampart. She limps ever so slightly from a sprained ankle, yet she's all grace. Her hair is a nest of twigs; circles ring her eyes. She smiles at me. She is beautiful. Like Eo. From ~ Pierce Brown

Her kiss is hungry, as if long deprived. As if they didn't already spend the morning doing just exactly this, making up for the lost time they were apart. Triton's trident, I could do this all day. Then he catches himself. No, I couldn't. Not without wanting more. Which is why we need to stop.
Instead, he entwines his hands in her hair, and she teases his lips with her tongue, trying to get him to fully open his mouth to her. He gladly complies. Her fingers sneak their way under his shirt, up his stomach, sending a trail of fire to his chest.
He is about to lose his shirt altogether. Until Antonis's voice booms from the doorway. "Extract yourself from Prince Galen, Emma," he says. "You two are not mated. This behavior is inappropriate for any Syrena, let alone a Royal."
Emma's eyes go round as sand dollars. He can tell she's not sure what to think about her grandfather telling her what to do. Or maybe she's caught off guard that he called her a Royal. Either way, like most people, Emma decides to obey. Galen does, too. They stand up side by side, not daring to be close enough to touch. They behold King Antonis in a polka-dot bathrobe, and though he's the one who looks silly, they are the ones who look shamed.
Galen feels like a fingerling again. "I apologize, Highness," he says. It seems like all he does lately is apologize to the Poseidon king. "It was my fault."
Antonis gives him a reproving look. "I like you, young prince. But you well know the law ~ Anna Banks

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

Eve woke, violently aroused. It was Roarke's hands on her. She knew their texture, their rhythm. Her heart tripped against her ribs, then bounded into her throat as his mouth covered hers. His was greedy, hot, giving her no choice, really no choice at all but to respond in kind. Even as she fumbled for him, those long, clever fingers pierced her, diving into her so that she bowed up into the frenzy of orgasm. His mouth on her breast, sucking, teeth scraping. His elegant hands relentless so that her cries came out in whimpers of shock and gratitude. Another staggering climax to layer thick over the first. Her hands sought purchase in the tangled sheets, but nothing could anchor her. As she flew up again, she gripped him, nails scraping down his back, up to grab handfuls of his hair.

"God!" It was the single coherent word she managed as he plunged into her, so hard, so deep she was amazed she didn't die from the pleasure of it. Her body bucked helplessly, frantically, continued to shudder even after he'd collapsed on her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh and lazily nuzzled her ear. "Sorry to wake you. ~ J.D. Robb

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

We were those girls, the artist's daughters, the mermaids, the ones with long, tangled hair who did what they wanted. Inside, always, we knew we were free." - Stacey D'Erasmo ~ Stacey D'Erasmo

I think the sophomore curse happens when you change every bit of yourself. Though my hair is blonde now, sonically it's still the same girl; conceptually it's still the same girl. ~ Keri Hilson

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

Batting her hand away, Wolf dug his fingers into Scarlet's hair and crushed his mouth against hers. Her protests died with a muffled gasp. This ~ Marissa Meyer

The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all round him. She had become a physical necessity. ~ George Orwell

The hair on the back of Kiara's neck stood up. Did they know about Chris? Since becoming a couple last year, the two worked hard at keeping their relationship under wraps. She wasn't ashamed, just cautious. Copper Road University was a Southern school and certain types of relationships were frowned upon. She kept her love life under wraps out of a love of privacy. She also didn't want it to interfere with becoming a Kappa. While on the national level the organization prided itself on its diverse membership, on the local level everyone may not be so accepting. ~ LaToya Hankins

Maybe there aren't any happily ever afters, or white knights who ride in on valiant steeds to save the day. Maybe, in real life, Prince Charming isn't always perfect – he's just as flawed as everyone else in the tale. And that princess, alone in her tower? She's not perfect either. Birds don't braid her hair every morning, she can't serenade wild forest creatures into servitude, and she doesn't even own a ball gown. But she's also smart enough to know not to accept poisoned apples from strangers, or prick her finger on deadly spindles.

She doesn't wait around for a prince to charge in and slay the dragon. Maybe she saves herself and in the end, rides off into her own goddamned sunset. ~ Julie Johnson

The brave princess Lucretia raced through the marble halls of the palace. "I must find Cordelia, " she gasped. "I must save her."
"I believe Prince James holds her even now, captive in his throne room!" Sir Jerrod exclaimed. "But Princess Lucretia, even though you are the most beautiful and wise lady that I have ever met, surely you cannot fight your way through a hundred of his stoutest palace guard!" The knight's green eyes flashed. His straight black hair was is disarranged, and his white shirt entirely undone.
"But I must!" Lucretia cried. ~ Cassandra Clare

I wondered if she was truly Rahtan. Yes, she was skilled, but she didn't exactly possess brawn - even if she had managed to overtake me and slam me up against the wall. But juggling? Riddles? Her age. Her poise and demeanor was that of a cynical tested soldier, but her appearance - she was young, younger than me, I was certain. Her black hair fell in thick, long waves, and her hands were delicate, her fingers more suited for a piano than a sword. ~ Mary E. Pearson

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

I have been lusting after my wife's son since the day I met him. Tall and thin, the boy has yet to grow into his long arms and legs. Jet black hair like his biological father, it falls just to below his collar. His eyes are so blue I could see myself in them if I allowed myself to get close enough. I haven't done that. Yet. ~ Candi Kay

The year was 1987, but it might as well have been the Summer of Love: I was twenty, had hair down to my shoulders, and was dressed like an Indian rickshaw driver. For those charged with enforcing our nation's drug laws, it would have been only prudent to subject my luggage to special scrutiny. Happily, I had nothing to hide. "Where are you coming from?" the officer asked, glancing skeptically at my backpack. "India, Nepal, Thailand…" I said. "Did you take any drugs while you were over there?" As it happens, I had. The temptation to lie was obvious - why speak to a customs officer about my recent drug use? But there was no real reason not to tell the truth, apart from the risk that it would lead to an even more thorough search of my luggage (and perhaps of my person) than had already commenced. "Yes," I said. The officer stopped searching my bag and looked up. "Which drugs did you take? "I smoked pot a few times… And I tried opium in India." "Opium?" "Yes." "Opium or heroin? "It was opium." "You don't hear much about opium these days." "I know. It was the first time I'd ever tried it." "Are you carrying any drugs with you now?" "No." The officer eyed me warily for a moment and then returned to searching my bag. Given the nature of our conversation, I reconciled myself to being there for a very long time. I was, therefore, as patient as a tree. Which was a good thing, because the officer was now examining my belongings as though any one item - a toothbrush, a book, a flashlight ~ Sam Harris

Just to confirm to all my followers I have had a hair transplant. I was going bald at 25 why not. ~ Wayne Rooney

I leaned in and kissed him. It was a mess: hands in hair and practically climbing into his lap right there in that stupid bar but I didn't care. I didn't care. His hands moved to my face, and his eyes--when I peeked--were open and pleading and something was there. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. "Sweet Sara," he murmured around my wild kisses. ~ Christina Lauren

Youth may be admired for vigor, but gray hair gives prestige to old age. ~ Eugene H. Peterson

You curl your hair and paint your face. Not I: I am curled by the wind, painted by the sun. ~ Julia De Burgos

Old married people look so much alike that they have the same number of hairs in their ears. ~ Albert Camus

What kind of woman was she? What kind of woman was it who called to me from that calamity on the Seventh Avenue line? What kind of woman do I love now, with a fealty that will not cease, not till my occluded arteries send their clots up to the spongy interiors in my skull and I go mute and slack? I love the kind of woman whose hair has gone gray in a not terribly flattering way, the kind who doesn't even notice how she has to keeps having to buy larger jeans, the kind who likes big cars because she doesn't like to be uncomfortable. I love this woman because she is gifted with astounding premonitory skills: no matter how uncertain, how despondent, how lost her mate feels, no matter how dire the circumstances, she nonetheless predicts that Everything will be roses. ~ Rick Moody

His eyes were heated, his jaw set as he stepped even closer to me, his grip on my wrist steely as his other hand came up to cup the side of my face, his fingertips threading into my hair. I didn't have any time to react before his mouth covered mine. ~ Kirsty Moseley

It's hard to see. There are only the shadows of things. She feels along the fridge to the wall and the phone, touching first her uncle's keys, then her dead aunt's, a woman Devon can feel judging her from the grave even though she's only borrowing something, not stealing it. She has never stolen anything in her life, and she never will. She steps into the cool, still air of the closed garage and she sees Sick's face. The way he looked at her as she let him in, the only one. His hair hung down and his lips were parted and as he moved inside her his eyes seemed to shine with a sweet sadness, the kind that only comes when you know something good can never, ever last. But you keep going anyway. All you can do is keep going and never quit. ~ Andre Dubus III

He smiled at two people walking by: a tall, good-looking boy with a streak of white in his dark hair and a brunette girl whose eyes were shaded by sunglasses. They ignored him. But ~ Cassandra Clare

I didn't have a choice."
"Are you saying...What are you saying?" Is he...could he be talking about me?
He runs a hand through his hair. I've never seen him this emotional before. He's always so controlled, so sure of himself. "I'm saying you're what I want, Emma. I'm saying I'm in love with you."
He steps forward and lifts his hand to my cheek, blazing a line of fire with his fingertips as they trace down to my mouth. "How do you think it would make me feel to see you with Grom?" he whispers. "Like someone ripped my heart out and put it through Rachel's meat grinder, that's how. Probably worse. It would probably kill me. Emma, please don't cry."
I throw my hands in the air. "Don't cry? Are you serious? Why did you come here, Galen? Did you think it would make me feel better to know that you do love me, but that it still won't work out? That I still have to mate with Grom for the greater good? Don't you tell me not to cry, Galen! I...c...c...can't h...h...help-" The waterworks soak me. Galen looks at me, hands by his side, helpless as a trapped crab. I'm bordering on hyperventilation, and pretty soon I'll start hiccupping. This is too much.
His expression is so severe, it looks like he's in physical pain. "Emma," he breathes. "Emma, does this mean you feel the same way? Do you care for me at all?"
I laugh, but it sounds sharper than I intended, because of a hiccup. "What does it matter how I feel, Galen? I think we pretty much covered why. No need ~ Anna Banks

And sometimes we discuss frightening and troublesome animals that might be nearby, and this topic always leads to much disagreement over which part of a frightening and troublesome beast is the most frightening and troublesome. Some say the teeth of the beast, because teeth are used for eating children, and often their parents, and gnawing on their bones. Some say the claws of the beast, because claws are used for ripping things to shreds. And some say the hair of the beast, because hair can make allergic people sneeze. But I always insist that the most frightening part of any beast is its belly, for the simple reason that if you are seeing the belly of the beast it means you have already seen the teeth of the beast and the claws of the of the beast and even the hair of the beast, and now you are trapped and there is probably no hope for you. ~ Lemony Snicket

When I was a little kid I wanted to be Face. I thought, cos I had blond hair and he did too, that when I grew up I'd look like him. ~ Noel Fielding

There were some children round him playing in the dust on the paths. They had long fair hair, and with very earnest faces and solemn attention were making little mountains of sand so as to stamp on them and squash them underfoot.
Pierre was going through one of those gloomy days when one looks into every corner of one's soul and shakes out every crease.
'Our occupations are like the work of those kids,' he thought. Then he wondered whether after all the wisest course in life was not to beget two or three of these little useless beings and watch them grow with complacent curiosity. And he was touched by the desire to marry. You aren't so lost when you're not alone any more. At any rate you can hear somebody moving near you in times of worry and uncertainty, and it is something anyway to be able to say words of love to a woman when you are feeling down.
He began thinking about women.
His knowledge of them was very limited, as all he had had in the Latin Quarter was affairs of a fortnight or so, dropped when the month's money ran out and picked up again or replaced the following month. Yet kind, gentle, consoling creatures must exist. Hadn't his own mother brought sweet reasonableness and charm to his father's home? How he would have loved to meet a woman, a real woman!
He leaped up, determined to go and pay a little visit to Mme Rosémilly.
But he quickly sat down again. No, he didn't like that one! ~ Guy De Maupassant

Father . . . ," Gabriel began. "Father is a worm."
Will gave a short laugh. He was in gear as if he had just come from the practice room, and his hair curled damply against his temples. He was not looking at Tessa, but she had grown used to that. Will hardly ever looked at her unless he had to. "It's good to see you've come round to our view of things, Gabriel, but this is an unusual way of announcing it."
Gideon shot Will a reproachful look before turning back to his brother. "What do you mean, Gabriel? What did Father do?"
Gabriel shook his head. "He's a worm," he said again, tonelessly.
"I know. He has brought shame on the name of Lightwood, and lied to both of us. He shamed and destroyed our mother. But we need not be like him."
Gabriel pulled away from his brother's grip, his teeth suddenly flashing in an angry scowl. "You're not listening to me," he said. "He's a worm. A worm. A bloody great serpentlike thing. Since Mortmain stopped sending the medicine, he's been getting worse. Changing. Those sores upon his arms, they started to cover him. His hands, his neck, h-his face . . ." Gabriel's green eyes sought Will. "It was the pox, wasn't it? You know all about it, don't you? Aren't you some sort of expert?"
"Well, you needn't act as if I invented it," said Will. "Just because I believed it existed. There are accounts of it - old stories in the library - ~ Cassandra Clare

Di's bouquet trembled in her hands. "Greg slept with my bridesmaid."

"Susie?" Min said, not surprised but sick just the same. "I knew she - "

"Worse," Di said."

"How could it be worse?" Min said and then the other shoe dropped. "Karen?"

Di nodded.

"Oh," Min said, trying to think of what to say as her rage rose. "Oh, honey." She put her arm around Di. "Tell me this was before he proposed to you and not - "

"Last night," Di whispered, and Min took a deep breath, corset or not.

"Son of a fucking bitch."

"Thank you," Di said, and sniffed.

"That whore, I swear I'll rip out every hair on her goddamn head." Min held Di tighter. "I'll nail her fucking chignon to the church door, the miserable bitch. And Dad will take Greg apart. He's been wanting to for months. ~ Jennifer Crusie

Someone once told me to always
live for the little things
in life.
Live for 5am sunrises and 5pm sunsets
where you'll see colours in the sky that
don't usually belong.
Live for road trips and bike rides
with music in your ears and
the wind in your hair.
Live for days when you're surrounded
by your favourite people who make you realise
that the world is not a
cold, harsh place.
Live for the little things because
they will make you realise that
this is what life is about,
this is what it means to be
alive. ~ A.Y.