Hair Bands Quotes

I think it's better to be a hair band than a bald band. ~ Warren DeMartini

Geez, I wish I could tell you I had a whole bunch of '80s hair bands, you know something you really wouldn't expect, but I don't know that the music police would be that surprised, because most of the stuff that I am influenced by is in evidence in the music. ~ John Sebastian

When I try to picture heaven, I see a place where it's always December, every radio station plays hair bands, and every time I check my pockets they're full of Hershey's Kisses. There's a Christmas parade on every street, every day is my birthday, and the sun always sets at 4:58 p.m. ~ Damien Echols

This is my own little rock theory: In my mind, Nirvana slayed the hair bands. They shot the top off the poodles. ~ Henry Rollins

I definitely listened to country music. I don't think I listened to hair bands as much as I did Bruce Springsteen and U2 and Aerosmith. ~ Julianne Hough

I can't see any difference in having your hair dyed, your teeth fixed, your nose done, or your face smoothed out or lifted. ~ Joanna Lumley

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

Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox. "My life is very monotonous. I run after the chickens; the men run after me. All the chickens are the same; all the men are the same. Consequently, I get a little bored. But if you tame me, my days will be as if filled with sunlight. I shall know the sound of a footstep different from all the rest ... You see the fields of corn? Well, I don't eat bread. Corn is of no use to me. Corn fields remind me of nothing. Which is sad. On the other hand, your hair is the colour of gold. So think how wonderful it will be when you have tamed me. The corn, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I will come to love the sound of the wind in the field of corn.
The fox fell silent and looked steadily at the little prince for a long time.
"Please," he said, "tame me! ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Amadora was never far from her understanding of women, glamour, or the fine line between elegant and camp, vulgar and vibrant, life and dreams ... Color, she believed, was feminine. She said that women were masters of color, evidenced in changing their hair color, using eye shadow, mascara, powder, rouge, lipstick. You could see it in their jewelry- silvers and golds, gems, stones, pearls of every hue. It was in their clothing, from what they slept in to what they danced in. Their shoes. Their purses. Ribbons, barrettes, clips, and tiaras. Veils. All this color to enhance their sex appeal, while men, she felt, were ill-equipped to handle color with the same ease. ~ Whitney Otto

Minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! ~ William Shakespeare

His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from me and slid to the floor.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
"A moment of peace and quiet," he snapped, rubbing his temples.
I paused. "From what?"
He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. "From this mess."
I sat up farther on my pallet of the hay. I'd never seen him so candid.
"That damned bitch is running me ragged," he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. "You hate me. Imagine how you'd feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I'm High Lord of the Night Court - not her harlot."
So the slurs were true. And I could imagine very easily how much I would hate him - what it would do to me - to be enslaved to someone like that. "Why are you telling me this?"
The swagger and nastiness were gone. "Because I'm tired and lonely, and you're the only person I can talk to without putting myself at risk." He let out a low laugh. "How absurd: a High Lord of Prythian and a - "
"You can leave if you're just going to insult me."
"But I'm so good at it". He flashed one of his grins. I glared at him, but he sighted. "One wrong move tomorrow, Freyre, and we're all doomed. ~ Sarah J. Maas

I drive a tiny Toyota iQ. I'm quite frugal and often cut my own hair. ~ Carol Vorderman

his hair gelled into badass spikes. ~ Tijan

The '60s are my favorite decade - with the Cold War, the women's movement. And then there's the music, the fashion, the clothes, the hair. ~ Margot Robbie

Beer?" Gabriel was so close that Rase could feel Gabriel's breath on his hair.
"This isn't a social call," Rase said, not even trying to keep his voice steady.
"Then why are your clothes still on? ~ Anah Crow

My mother's white, and she didn't know how to do my hair, so I had something that I always call white-mama hair. ~ Jami Floyd

With his fair hair and milky skin and rosy cheeks, he looks like he could be an English farmer's son. But he's slim, so maybe the sensitive farmer's son who steals away to the barn to read. ~ Jenny Han

But I end up with these bands who have players from literally all over the world. ~ Joe Zawinul

Why did you come here tonight?" she asked. "Other than the fact that you've finally come to your senses and realize you love me."
Chuckling, Grey reached up and untied the ribbons that held her mask. The pretty silk fell away to reveal the beautiful face beneath. "I missed you," he replied honestly. "And you were right-about everything. I'm tired of drifting through life. I want to live again-with you."
A lone tear trickled down her cheek. "I think that might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
He grinned. "I have more."
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I'm tired of talking." She kissed him, teasing his lips with the ripe curves of hers, sliding her tongue inside to rub against his in a sensual rhythm that had him fisting his hands in her skirts.
By the time they reached Mayfair, Grey's hair was mussed, Rose's skirts crushed, and he was harder than an oratory competition for mutes.
"I can't believe you came," she told him as the entered the house, arms wrapped around each other. "I'm so proud of you."
"I wouldn't have done it without you."
She shook her head. "You did it for yourself not for me."
Perhaps that was true, and perhaps it wasn't. He had no interest in discussing it tonight. "It's just the beginning," he promised. "I'm going to go wherever you want to go from now on. Within reason."
She laughed. "Of course. We can't have you attending a musicale just to please me, can we?" She gazed up at him. " ~ Kathryn Smith

[On Sting] He threw a sucker punch. There's the sucker who threw the punch. Him the the Bart Simpson hair doo. ~ Bobby Heenan

Frank's bands could play the hardest stuff and make it seem like no big deal. ~ Dweezil Zappa

I try to be gentle, but there is nothing gentle about the feelings she evokes in me. She's pure flame, and like her wild hair, she's making me burn. ~ Anna B. Doe

She woke from dreamless rest to find her lap filled with wildflowers-blue and gold violets, white starworts with bright yellow centers, wild geraniums, purple heather, pale lavender bellflowers, creamy butterworts...a treasure trove of nature's jewels.
"Where did these come from?" she asked her warrior husband.
He leaned back on his elbows and studied the sea. "Some trolls came by and left them."
"Trolls picking flowers?"
"More believable, surely, than me doing it?"
She laughed and surprised him by competently weaving the summer's late blossoms into a garland for her hair.
"How is it you know how to do that," he asked, "when you are so thoroughly undomestic?"
She threw a purple aster at him and laughed again. "I thought I was managing to conceal that."
"Oh,certainly. ~ Josie Litton

There were no shouts, no trumpets, nothing but the ringing of iron-shod boots on the stones of the bridge, and the clank of ready weaponry.
Could we rescue them? I could not see Khesot's face, but in the utter stillness with which they stood, I read hopelessness.
I readied myself once again--
Then from the center of their forces stepped a single equerry, with a white scarf tied to a pole. He started up the path that we meant to descend. As he walked the light strengthened, now illuminating details. Still with that weird detachment I looked at his curly hair, the freckles on his face, his small nose. We could cut him down in moments, I thought, and then winced the thought away. We were not Galdran. I waited.
He stopped not twenty-five paces from me and said loudly, "Countess, we request a parley."
Which made it obvious they knew we were there.
Questions skittered through my mind. Had Khesot talked? How otherwise could the enemy have seen us? The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.
I stood up. "Here. State your message."
"A choice. You surrender, and your people can then disperse to their homes. Otherwise, we start with them." He pointed to the bridge. "Then everyone else." He lifted his hand, indicating the ridge up behind us.
I turned, and shock burned through me when I saw an uncountable host lined along the rocks we'd descended from half a n ~ Sherwood Smith

There was something sly about his smile,
his eyes so black and sharp, his rufous hair. Something
that sent her early to their trysting place,
beneath the oak, beside the thornbush,
something that made her climb the tree and wait.
Climb a tree, and in her condition.
Her love arrived at dusk, skulking by owl-light,
carrying a bag,
from which he took a mattock, shovel, knife.
He worked with a will, beside the thornbush, beneath the oaken tree,
he whistled gently, and he sang, as he dug her grave,
that old song ...
shall I sing it for you, now, good folk? ~ Neil Gaiman

One of the Keith Commandments is that nothing is secret. ~ Jessica Pallington West

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair. ~ J.K. Rowling

A young woman with long hair and a short white halter dress walks through the casino at the Riviera in Las Vegas at one in the morning. It was precisely this moment that made Play It As It Lays begin to tell itself to me. ~ Joan Didion

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

There was something rather blousy about roses in full bloom, something shallow and raucous, like women with untidy hair ~ Daphne Du Maurier

But, then again, I wouldn't call myself an indie-rock supporter even if there are some really good bands out there and there will always be some real good new bands. ~ Stephen Malkmus

I'm made up of the memories of my parents and grandparents, all my ancestors. They're in the way I look, in the color of my hair. And I'm made up of everyone I've ever met who's changed the way I think. So who is ~ Terry Pratchett

He bent his head, bringing his lips near her ear. "Talk of the future confuses you, I know. But I think about it all the time."
His hands moved slowly down her bare arms. "When the time is right, when it's our time, I want to undress you – slowly – in front of the fire. Slowly, one item at a time. I want to roll down your stockings and unlace your corset. I want to slowly take the pins out of your hair and catch the weight of it in my hands. Then I want to learn the feel of every inch of you. ~ Maggie Osborne

The beautiful you is not the color of your skin

Or the texture of your hair.

The beautiful you is not how tall or short you are

The beautiful you is not rather you're skinny or overweight by society standards

The beautiful you is not the degrees you have obtain

Or the size of your bank accounts.

The beautiful you, has nothing to do with where you're from, or religious beliefs

Nor the car you drive or the house you live in.

The beautiful you is not the price tag of what you wear

The beautiful you has nothing do with how eloquent you speak

The beautiful you is your kindness and compassion toward others

The beautiful you is your tolerance and patience

The beautiful you is your ability to love and forgive

The beautiful you don't rush to judge what you don't understand

The beautiful you is always seeking to evolve into its higher self

That is the beautiful you and that is what the world needs

The beautiful you is what defines our Humanity

The Beautiful you, Be that Always! ~ Micheline Jean Louis

Red carpets seem so glamorous, but you're really just standing there sweating and worrying your hair is going to fall. And in the end, people are only going to see one picture of you. You just smile for one second and then you walk over to the side and check your phone. It's pretty weird. ~ Morgan Saylor

I waited for him to say something more, but he was quiet.
"Was there something you wanted?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away, but I could feel him struggling, so I waited.
"If I asked you something, would you tell me the truth?"
It was my turn to hesitate. "I don't know everything," I hedged.
"You would know this. When we were walking... me and Jeb... he was telling me some things. Things he thought, but I don't know if he's right."
Melanie was suddenly very in my head.
Jamie's whisper was hard to hear, quieter than my breathing. "Uncle Jeb thinks that Melanie might still be alive. Inside there with you, I mean."
Melanie sighed.
I said nothing to either of them.
"I didn't know that could happen. Does that happen?" His voice broke and I could hear that he was fighting tears. He was not a boy to cry, and here I'd grieved him this deeply twice in one day. A pain pierced through the general region of my chest.
"Does it, Wanda?"

"Why won't you answer me?" Jamie was really crying now but trying to muffle the sound.
I crawled off the bed, squeezing into the hard space between the mattress and the mat, and threw my arm over his shaking chest. I leaned my head against his hair and felt his tears, warm on my neck.
"Is Melanie still alive, Wanda? Please?"
He was probably a tool. The old man could have sent him just for this, Jeb was smart enough to see how easily Jamie broke through my defenses.
~ Stephenie Meyer

Somebody gotta tell you this:
Cancer kills way more Americans than any Arabic terrorist.
We use more money to fight them than finding a cure,
So a little kid sits there with his chemo-therapist.
Hair falling out while his vital signs weaken ...
He'll be dead while his parent are in debt for his treatment. ~ Crooked I

He sat her on the edge of the bed then stood in front of her. When he stripped off his shirt, her jaw dropped.

Dear. God.

Ropes of corded muscles, hard lines of strength, sex, and everything in between covered his body. He had some chest hair, enough to enhance the beauty of his ink, but not too much.

And, sweet baby Jesus, his ink. ~ Carrie Ann Ryan

I dyed my hair red when I was ten and when I was 11 - in my goth period - I dyed it black and I was really into witchcraft. I made mini shrines in my bedroom with candles and tried to cast spells to make the boy in the next class fall in love with me. I don't think he did. ~ Florence Welch

How many books did you get through?" he asked. She sat up in bed, brushing a few strands of long blond hair off her face. "Three hundred and forty nine." Blaise blinked. "That's very precise. Are you sure it wasn't three hundred and forty eight?" "Yes, I'm sure," she said seriously, then smiled. "In fact, it was 138,902 pages and 32,453,383 words. ~ Dima Zales

The only thing constantly changing is change
The living only become dead
Your hair falling out
Your liver swelled up
Your teeth rot your gums and your chin
Your ass starts to sag
Your balls shrivel up
Your cock swallowed up in its sack
The only thing constantly changing is change
And it's always change on your back. ~ Lou Reed

Getting a man to love you is easy
Only be honest about your wants as
Woman. Stand nude before the glass with him
So that he sees himself the stronger one
And believes it so, and you so much more
Softer, younger, lovelier. Admit your
Admiration.

Gift him all,
Gift him what makes you woman, the scent of
Long hair, the musk of sweat between the breasts,
The warm shock of menstrual blood, and all your
Endless female hungers. Oh yes, getting
A man to love is easy, but living
Without him afterwards may have to be
Faced. ~ Kamala Suraiyya Das

In the hazy afternoon light through the windows he looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar and streaks of golden hair falling into his eyes, like some Regency buck after a long night's dancing. ~ Tana French

Very few entities are powerful enough to create Patinas, and those that can guard them closely. The library is here. But Arriane's right. We'll need to figure out the way in."
"I heard you need an Announcer to get through one," Arriane said.
"Cosmic legend." Annabelle shook her head. "Every Patina is different. Access is entirely up to the creator. They program the code."
"I once heard Cam tell a story at a party about how he accessed a Patina," Rolan said. "Or was that a story about a party that he threw in a Patina?"
"Luce!" Daniel said suddenly, making all of them startle in midair. "It's you. It was always you."
Luce shrugged. "Always me what?"
"You're the one who always rang the bell. You're the one who had entry to the library. You just need to ring the bell."
Luce looked at the empty street, the fog tinting everything around them brown. "What are you talking about? What bell?"
"Close your eyes," Daniel said. "Remember it. Pass into the past and find the bellpull-"
Luce was already there, back at the library the last time she'd been in Vienna with Daniel. Her feet were firmly on the ground. It was raining and her hair splayed all across her face. Her crimson hair ribbons were soaked, but she didn't care. She was looking for something. There was a short path up the courtyard, then a dark alcove outside the library. It had been cold outside, and a fire blazed within. There, in the musty corner near the door, was a woven cord em ~ Lauren Kate

Only In Sleep
Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.
Only in sleep Time is forgotten
What may have come to them, who can know?
Yet we played last night as long ago,
And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.
The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,
I met their eyes and found them mild
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,
And for them am I too a child? ~ Sara Teasdale

To create a situation where each new episode has to start in the exact same place as the previous one, with the actors' hair in the exact same place, seemed crazy. ~ Michael Loceff

Women are sewers just like we are, the once pure boys recognize with a start; it's raw sewage that produces fertilization; once you understand that you can be fond of yourself and members of the Opposite Sex, but you can never quite see them again as ice cream bars. I, the author, don't really mind this, for I love all girls and love to hug and kiss them and cheer them up when they cry, and have them perform all the same services for me; and a woman's saliva is certainly a miracle, think of all those enzymes and germs; and if I took and wrote the chemicals down on a sheet of paper, all COOOHs and sighs, it would look pretty, just like a face all pretty, like the dear round moon-face of her who loves you or the creamy-freckled skin and blue eyes and heavenly hair of that Irish beauty back in college, so don't think I'm complaining. ~ William T. Vollmann

I believe in love. And beauty. I believe that every single person has something they find beautiful and that they truly love. The smell of their child's hair, the silence of a forest, their lover's crooked grin. Their country, their religion, their family. And I believe that if you follow this love all the way to its end, if you start with the thing you find most beautiful and trace it's perfume back to its essence, you will perceive an intangible presence, a swath of stillness that allows the thing you love to be visible like the openness of the sky reveals the presence of the moon. ~ Geneen Roth

I'm very expressive.
i deserve to feel pretty.
i kissed the blarney stone.
i am strong. i am brave.
im a good friend. I'm a good sister. I'm a good wife. i am a good in-law. I'm a good daughter. i am a good niece. I'm a good beagle mother. i am a good granddaughter.
i work hard for it, honey.
im superfly TNT motherfucker.
im a pilot of the airwaves.
im a better third baseman that brooks robinson.
I B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E.
i have exceptionally beautiful feet, eyes, ears, hips, hair, teeth, breasts. and shoulders. and fingernails. in a different pen, she added, and eyelashes and eyebrows, plus in yet another pen, and nose. and chin. ~ Rob Sheffield