Hair Calligraphy Quotes

I think I should be the one thanking you," he whispered
"For what?" I pulled him closer to me.
He pushed the hair out of my face before whispering in my ear, "For saying, screw the lemons. ~ Magan Vernon

It was an odd situation. For a century and a half, men got rid of their own hair, which was perfectly comfortable, and instead covered their heads with something foreign and uncomfortable. Very often it was actually their own hair made into a wig. People who couldn't afford wigs tried to make their hair look like a wig. ~ Bill Bryson

This was not going the way I wanted it to. I felt a desperate need to escape before I said something that would screw up my plans. Ren was the dark side, the forbidden fruit, my personal Delilah-the ultimate temptation. The question was…could I resist?
I gave his knee a friendly pat and played my trump card…"I'm leaving."
"You're what?"
"I'm going home to Oregon. Mr. Kadam thinks it will be safer for me anyway, with Lokesh out there looking to kill us and all. Besides, you need time to figure out…stuff."
"If you're leaving, then I'm going with you!"
I smiled at him wryly. "That kind of defeats the purpose of me leaving. Don't you think?"
He slicked back his hair, let out a deep breath, then took my hand and looked intently into my eyes. "Kells, when are you going to accept the fact that we belong together?"
I felt sick, like I was kicking a faithful puppy who only wanted to be loved. I looked out at the pool.
After a moment, he sat back scowling and said menacingly, "I won't let you leave."
Inside, I desperately wanted to take his hand and beg him to forgive me, to love me, but I steeled myself, dropped my hands in my lap, then implored, "Ren, please. You have to let me go. I need…I'm afraid…look, I just can't be here, near you, when you change your mind."
"It's not going to happen."
"it might. There's a good chance."
He growled angrily. "There's no chance!"
"Well, my heart can't take that risk, and I don't want ~ Colleen Houck

Katsa didn't know how long they'd been grappling when she realized he was laughing. She understood his joy, understood it completely. She'd never had such a fight, she'd never had such an opponent. She was faster than he was offensively-much faster-but he was stronger, and it was as if he had a premonition of her every turn and strike; she'd never known a fighter so quick to defend himself. She was calling up moves she hadn't tried since she was a child, blows she'd only ever imagined having the opportunity to use. They were playing. It was a game. When he pinned her arms behind her back, grabbed her hair, and pushed her face into the dirt, she found that she was laughing as well. ~ Kristin Cashore

Breslin gives me his wise-teacher smile, which is kind and crinkly and would make me feel warm all over if I was dumber than a bag of hair. ~ Tana French

He finished combing his goddamn gorgeous hair. ~ J.D. Salinger

Diana hooted in triumph as her feet met the path, sprinting higher to where the trees were sparse, their trunks bent and twisted by the wind. They looked like women, frozen in a mad dance, the tangle of their hair tossed forward in abandon, their backs arched in ecstasy or bent in supplication, a processional of dancers that led Diana up the mountainside. ~ Leigh Bardugo

I started to stand, but I neeed to say more to Tracey. "Tracey, I apologize again for calling you 'Arvey' all that time."
Her whole body, already still, stiffened.
"I wouldn't have done it if I had known your real name."
One hand slipped up under her hair, as if swiping a tear.
"I hope you never do anything like the picture again because it caused a lot of trouble, but there's something important I want you to know."
She slowly raised her head and faxed me with damp, red eyes.
Memory took me back to that night Grandma explained why she was so happy in spite of the horrors she had survived. I wanted to do what Grandma had done – leave the bad times behind so I could enjoy the good times. I wanted to close the door on this whole drama.
"Tracey, I forgive you. ~ Brenda Vicars

I will go," he said. "I will go to Troy."
The rosy gleam of his lip, the fevered green of his eyes. There was not a line anywhere on his face, nothing creased or graying; all crisp. He was spring, golden and bright. Envious death would drink his blood, and grow young again.
He was watching me, his eyes as deep as earth.
"Will you come with me?" he asked.
The never-ending ache of love and sorrow. Perhaps in some other life I could have refused, could have torn my hair and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one. He would sail to Troy and I would follow, even into death. "Yes," I whipsered. "Yes."
Relief broke in his face, and he reached for me. I let him hold me, let him press us length to length so close that nothing might fit between us.
Tears came, and fell. Above us, the constellations spun and the moon paced her weary course. We lay stricken and sleepless as the hours passed. ~ Madeline Miller

Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

Ginny who lived her life with hair in the breeze, Stillman who lived his with it under his hat. And he loved her so much the worse for it. ~ Josh Weil

I threw back my head, my hair falling about me like a great red curtain, and cried out. My eyes felt hot and burned with tears as my body trembled with the passion for blood. ~ Rhiannon Frater

Wait. You don't understand. I just wanted it to stop. Wanted the hurting to stop."
I smoothed a bloodied lock of hair from her eyes and felt very tired as I said, "The only people who never hurt are dead."
The light died out of her eyes, her breath slowing. She whispered, barely audible, "I don't understand."
I answered, "I don't either."
A tear slid from her eye and mixed with the blood.
Then she died. ~ Jim Butcher

Touching his hair, she leaned hesitantly forward, and he folded his arms around her, sinking into sensation again as they kissed
the slight weight of her on his lap, the smell of her. He glided his hands up the warm dip of her spine, felt her shiver and press closer. He could never get enough of this. Never. ~ L.A. Weatherly

I look my best after an entire hair and makeup team has spent hours perfecting me. When do I feel my best? When I haven't looked in a mirror for days, and I'm doing things that make me happy. ~ Anne Hathaway

I attract a different kind of boy when my hair's red. I get more quality men - like a more thoughtful, nerdy dude. ~ Kirsten Dunst

So with my luck, I'll never make it in time to save the boy in the forest because my hair will have snagged on a tree branch a mile back. ~ Cynthia Hand

She stands in the doorway to our room, blue sundress rumpled, the rosy light of sunset slanting through the wide widows and illuminating the gold of her hair. I'm struck speechless, my breath cutting short. I am not a poetic man, but I want to be one now. I want to do justice to her beauty and the way she fills me with a strange mixture of utter peace and demanding need. ~ Kristen Callihan

After he left the house, she dried her hair and dressed in a pair of old, comfortable jeans and a white hoodie. Ordinarily, she'd take the time to put on makeup, but today she didn't feel the need to hide anything. She was who she was: a woman who'd survived a war of the heart and had the wrinkles to prove it. (Night Road, page 382) ~ Kristin Hannah

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

Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. ~ William Shakespeare

He started wrapping the fabric around my eyes and I laughed, "Caeden, what are you doing?"
"I think that's pretty obvious. I'm blindfolding you, silly girl."
He secured the knot on the back of my head. "You better not mess up my hair," I warned. ~ Micalea Smeltzer

I stood transfixed, the silence ringing in my ears. From the field of wild grasses; cocksfoot, tufted hair, wild oat, tall fescue, reed canary and perennial rye, their subtle shades of green, ochre and pink softly patching and blending in rustling movement, suddenly rose a small flock of starlings that had been feeding quietly unseen among the tall waving stems, the swish of their glossy wings startlingly loud in the stillness of midday. Heat held me captive. ~ Nell Grey

The younger man stepped away from the table and came toward me, his whole posture radiating menace. Every Darre woman is taught to deal with such behavior from men. It is an animal trick that they use, like dogs ruffling their fur and growling. Only rarely is there an actual threat behind it, and a woman's strength lies in discerning when the threat is real and when it is just hair and noise. ~ N.K. Jemisin

When I was a teenager, I was fat. I was shy. I wore glasses. I had a big eyebrow and hair all over my body. They were years of torture. ~ Gloria Estefan

Voices tossed up and down the long flights of stairs, sourceless and intertwining like crickets' chorus, gentle as fingers on my hair. Night, they said, good night, sleep well. Welcome back, Lexie. Yes, welcome back. Good night. Sweet dreams. ~ Tana French

Wow." Sin said, her high-heeled boots clacking on the floor as she approached. " I didn't expect a party or anything, but I figured you might be able to handle a hi."
"I'm serious" , he gritted. "Get out."
"Well, you know what ?" She tied her hair up in a knot. "I would, except that you fucking bonded me to you or something, and I need to borrow your dick for a minute. ~ Larissa Ione

Stay put," he said. "I don't want you setting off any explosives that'll get us both killed."
"Let me go with you."
"I don't want you getting hurt, Red."
There was something about the sound of his voice that gave her pause. "Don't tell me you care."
He ruffled her hair as though she were four instead of twenty-five. "All right, I won't. Just stay put. ~ Joan Johnston

You hear this kind of thing, rednecks and their guys and--"
"Don't call them that," I say. "They're just assholes. Most people you run into around here...well, maybe they won't like the length of your hair, but they'll keep their feelings to themselves. ~ Charles De Lint

A year or two younger than his eminently practical friend, Mr. Bounderby looked older; his seven or eight and forty might have had the seven or eight added to it again, without surprising anybody. He had not much hair. One might have fancied he had talked it off; and that what was left, all standing up in disorder, was in that condition from being constantly blown about by his windy boastfulness. ~ Charles Dickens

Noah turned to face his younger sister, arching one brow to a fairly smug height. Lenga lifted a brow back at him, giving him a delicate smattering of applause.
"And I was afraid you would never learn the art of diplomacy," she remarked, her lips twitching with her humor. "It merely took you the entire two and a half centuries of my life. Longer, actually. You had a few centuries' head start."
"Funny how you seem to recall the fact that I am far older than you only when it suits your arguments, my sister," he taunted her, reaching to tug on her hair as he had been doing since her childhood.
"Well, I can say with all honesty that this is the first time I have ever seen you forgo a good argument with Hannah, opting for peace instead. I was beginning to wonder if you were my brother at all. Perhaps some imposter . . ."
"Legna, be careful. You are speaking words of treason," he teased her, tugging her hair once more, making her turn around to swat at his hand.
"I don't know how you convinced the entire Council that you were mature enough to be King, Noah! You are such a child!" She twisted her body so he couldn't grab at her hair again. "And I swear, if you pull my hair once more like some sort of schoolyard bully, I am going to put you to sleep and shave you bald!"
Noah immediately raised his hands in acquiescence, laughing as Legna flushed in exasperation. For all her grace and ladylike ways, Noah's little sister was quite capable of making good on ~ Jacquelyn Frank

Jilly looked at it with a sinking heart. It was difficult enough when the exotic, undeniably gorgeous creature of her fantasies had turned out to be an obnoxious bully. Of course he had to have a Harley, as well, completing the perfect bad-boy image. With the tattooed teardrops on his high cheekbones and spiky, waist-length, flame-colored hair and his long, leather-clad legs and pointy-toed cowboy boots, he was almost irresistible, despite his manners.
A Harley sealed the deal. He was all her adolescent fantasies come true.
And it was time to grow up. ~ Anne Stuart

It's cheesy, but having a pimple or a bad hair day isn't going to matter in five years. I don't always remember that, but I try. ~ Abigail Breslin

He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window air-conditioners, a leather sofa and a pool table.
"Now do you feel better?" Adam had asked drily.
Gansey had replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Hey, man," Ronan said, "I like the pool table."
The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.
"There are children starving in the streets of Chicago," she said, her hair bristling with indignation. "Three species go extinct every hour because there's no funding to protect them. You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven't replaced them!"
Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his boat shoes. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. "I like these shoes."
"Sometimes I hate you," Blue said. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

He stalked through the narrow streets and wound his way down an alley between two buildings to an old, rotting wooden door. He paused to knock at it, three measured strokes followed by two quick ones, and it opened at once. Her batman, Sark, stood on the other side of it. The fellow reminded Espira of a hunting spider - he was warriorborn, tall, gaunt, with long, slender limbs and hands that seemed a little too large for the rest of him. His hair was black and short, and covered his face, head, neck, and what showed of his hands in a sparse, spidery fuzz. Sark had the feline eyes of his kind, one of them set at a slight angle to the other, so that Espira could never be sure precisely where the man was looking. ~ Jim Butcher

I don't love you," he ground out, biting her lip.
Sophie wound her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair as she kissed him gently. "I don't love you either," she whispered, holding him close and rocking the last ebbs of pleasure out of him. "I don't love you either. ~ Kitty French

Wasn't she scared?" Isabeau asked, her voice naught but a whisper. "To go with death?"
"No." I reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. "For death is not scary or evil or even unmerciful; it is simply death. ~ Robin LaFevers

It was like staring into the face of a familiar stranger. You know, that person you see in a crowd and swear you know, but you really don't? Now she was me - the familiar stranger.

She had my eyes. They were the same hazel color that could never decide whether it wanted to be green or brown, but my eyes had never been that big and round. Or had they? She had my hair - long and straight and almost as dark as my grandma's had been before hers had begun to turn silver. The stranger had my high cheekbones, long, strong nose, and wide mouth - more features from my grandma and her Cherokee ancestors. But my face had never been that pale. I'd always been olive-ish, much darker skinned than anyone else in my family. But maybe it wasn't that my skin was suddenly so white ... maybe it just looked pale in comparison to the dark blue outline of the crescent moon that was perfectly positioned in the middle of my forehead. Or maybe it was the horrid fluorescent lighting. I hoped it was the lighting.

I stared at the exotic-looking tattoo. Mixed with my strong Cherokee features it seemed to brand me with a mark of wildness ... as if I belonged to ancient times when the world was bigger ... more barbaric.

From this day on my life would never be the same. And for a moment - just an instant - I forgot about the horror of not belonging and felt a shocking burst of pleasure, while deep inside of me the blood of my grandmother's people rejoiced. ~ P.C. Cast

Holy shit, Riley." The human lowered his glass with a look of disbelief and horror. "The Order chapterhouse itself? So, what you're telling me is you've gone insane?"
"Very likely," I muttered.
"One of your hatchlings?"
"No." I scrubbed a hand through my hair. "One of them."
He stared at me, then used both hands to point at himself. "Okay, see this face? This is my what-the-hell face. Seriously, Riley. What. The. Hell. You snuck into enemy territory, dropped a figurative wasp down their pants and then brought that mess here, so I have to deal with it? Are you out of your freaking mind? Why would you do such a thing?
"It's ... complicated." He continued to give me his what-the-hell expression, and I scowled. ~ Julie Kagawa

Find one thing. One thing that's beautiful. Anything. Anything that shows you you're not one of them."

His eyes were back on me studying my face silently. Panic raced through me. It wasn't working. I couldn't do this. We were going to have to get out of here, regardless of whatever state he was in. I knew he'd leave, too. If i had learned anything, it was that Dimitri's warrior instincts were still working. If I said danger was coming, he would respond instantly, no matter the self-torment he felt. I didn't want him to leave in despair. I wanted him to leave here one step closer to being the man I knew he could be. I wanted him to have one less nightmare.

It was beyond my abilities, though. I was no therapist. I was about to tell him we had to get out of there, about to make his soldier reflexes kick in, when he suddenly spoke. His voice was barley a whisper. "Your hair."

"What?" for a second, I wondered if it was on fire or somthing. I touched a stray lock. No, nothing was wrong exept that it was a mess. I'd bound it up for battle to prevent the strgoi from using it as a handhold, like Angeline had. Much of it had come undone in the struggle, though.

"Your hair," repeated Dimitri. His eyes were wide, almost awestruck. "your hair is beautiful. ~ Richelle Mead

Her curious fingers paused before dipping below the soft hair. When she encountered the feminine folds, she gasped.
Dorian stopped breathing.
She tested that place lightly, finding a place that quivered and pulsed at the apex of that pliable skin. Awe speared Dorian as her feminine muscles clenched in the exact rhythm his own loins did. He could see them working through the skin unique to her sex. Her hips rolled with instinct little movements, her breaths catching on sighs of appreciation.
If Dorian was a lesser man, unused to patience, torment, and agony, he would have released his seed then and there. But he grappled his orgasm back down, thinking of her hands on his repulsive flesh, letting the fear throw ice into the flames.
Then she parted the inner cleft, dipped inside, and let out a moan that could have aroused Eros, himself. Her finger came away glistening as she pulled it back toward the nub that seemed to demand more attention than anywhere else. Where she swiped the moisture across it, her muscles all tensed, and she threw her head back onto the counterpane, letting loose a sound so visceral Dorian's will snapped. ~ Kerrigan Byrne

And they clapped they loved they worshipped him. I picked up sticks out of my hair. Dirt up off my tongue. I felt the loving smears go in. The loving blood. I felt water rushing in my brain. I dead the heart. I am for you alone. ~ Eimear McBride

I am not just my hair; I proved to myself that I am a cast of characters. I'm feeling freer to venture out of the 'look' people know me for. ~ Pamela Anderson

That afternoon she was wearing a yellow dress the same shade as her hair, and again his throat tightened when he saw her, and again he could not speak. But when the first moment passed and words came, it was all right, and their thoughts flowed together like two effervescent brooks and coursed gaily through the arroyo of the afternoon. This time when they parted, it was she who asked, "Will you be here tomorrow?" - though only because she stole the question from his lips - and the words sang in his ears all the way back through the woods to the cabin and lulled him to sleep after an evening spent with his pipe on the porch. ~ Robert F. Young

Take that off your head! came a whiny voice, right before a teenage boy appeared at the door with a pair of underwear pulled over his brown hair like a hat. Darnell. ~ James Dashner

The wind in the grain is the caress to the spouse; it is the hand of peace stroking her hair. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

She didn't see me because of the reflection on the store windows, and she wouldn't know me in this car anyway. In fact, she probably wouldn't know me with shaggy hair and the beginnings of a beard. So I sat for a minute, watching her dusting bookshelves, either talking to herself or singing. Her feather duster had become a prop in whatever scene she had going.
She looked heart-stoppingly, breathtakingly beautiful, my Meg. ~ Laura Anderson Kurk