Indulekha Hair Quotes

A salesman is an it that stinks to please
but whether to please itself or someone else
makes no more difference than if it sells
hate condoms education snakeoil vac
uumcleaners terror strawberries democ
ra(caveat emptor)cy superfluous hair ~ E. E. Cummings

I always had the facial hair so I looked older than I was. ~ Jimmy Smith

I feel most comfortable in an old pair of jeans, Converse, and a man's jersey. My best friend cuts my hair with kitchen scissors. ~ Jane Birkin

Just like that. Gone forever. They will not grow old together. They will never live on a beach by the sea, their hair turned white, dancing in a living room to Billie Holiday or Nat Cole. They will not enter a New York club at midnight and show the poor hip-hop fools how to dance. They will not chuckle together over the endless folly of the world, its vanities and stupid ambitions. They will not hug each other in any chilly New York dawn.
Oh, Mary Lou.
My baby.
My love. ~ Pete Hamill

Levi was thin and weedy, and his hair
well, his hair
but everything about him made Cath feel loose and immoral. ~ Rainbow Rowell

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

[Think] of an experience from your childhood. Something you remember clearly, something you can see, feel, maybe even smell, as if you were really there. After all you really were there at the time, weren't you? How else could you remember it? But here is the bombshell: you weren't there. Not a single atom that is in your body today was there when that event took place. Every bit of you has been replaced many times over (which is why you eat, of course). You are not even the same shape as you were then. The point is that you are like a cloud: something that persists over long periods, while simultaneously being in flux. Matter flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to be you. Whatever you are, therefore, you are not the stuff of which you are made. If that does not make the hair stand up on the back of your neck, read it again until it does, because it is important. ~ Steve Grand

When I was a real girl, my mother fed me her glass dreams one spoonful at a time. Harvard. Yale. Princeton. Duke. Undergrad. Med school. Internship, residency, God. She'd brush my hair and braid it with long words, weaving the Latin roots and Greek branches into my head so memorizing anatomy would come easy. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."

But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life . I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..." The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time. "Please, tame me!" he said. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

I was walking home alone late one night, when out of nowhere, this rabid homosexual jumped me and bit me right on the ass. I tried to fight him off, but you know those homos have superhuman strength. Anyway, he bit me on my left cheek, then took off. The whole thing shook me up, but I thought I was gonna be okay. It took me a few weeks to notice the changes. At first the signs were subtle: the sudden urge to redecorate my room, the uncontrollable desire to do Megan's hair. Then, as the phases of the moon progressed, I noticed other things: the need to wear lace panties, the insane hope of one day owning my own flower shop. Before I knew it, I was jacking off six times a day to pictures of Brad Pitt and Russell Crowe. Of course, I won't be a full fledged gay boy until I bite someone else and pass on the 'dark gift. Hey, Rooster, you wanna be my first convert? If I turn just four people, I win like a toaster oven or something.. ~ Sara Bell

I worked a lot with Mark Frankel, and he was really just an incredibly tender soul. He liked his hair just so and his suit. He was a good-looking man, and he cared about looking together. ~ Brigid Brannagh

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

He scooted his chair so close to hers that she fought the urge to back away. She gulped at his nearness. The lustful gleam flashing in his eyes made him like the Big Bad Wolf looming over her. "How much plainer can I make it for you? You were so damn sexy in that green dress. Your hair was down and fell in waves around your shoulders. And you kept giving me those innocent little smiles from across the room." His breath scorched against her cheek before he whispered into her ear. "I've never wanted to fuck someone so much as I wanted to you. ~ Katie Ashley

I hate being mean. I watch those roasts on Comedy Central and they make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. ~ Julie Brown

What am I going to do without you, Oscar?'
'You'll be fine', I answered. 'You could probably do some time away from me. I'm a pain in the neck. You're always saying so.'
'You're right,' she said. 'It'll be great to have you out of my hair for a few months.'
'Oscar, seriously though.'
'What?'
'Stay in touch, will you? Please?'
'Of course I will.'
'Promise?'
'Yes, I promise.'
'Good, because I'm really going to miss you. ~ Sarah Moore Fitzgerald

Julietta's dark hair is glossy and straight and smells like apples. Armand kneels beside her and holds his head close. Her eyelashes are long and delicately curved in a way people a hundred years ago would have described as buggy whips, a phrase no one uses any¬more because no one understands. In this way knowledge is lost. ~ John Lauricella

I'm a vegetarian and change my hair color as much as I can. ~ Hannah Marks

Hair on a man's head is like the opposite of salt in a dish; you can take it away but you can't add it in. ~ Iain Banks

Thank you," he said in that deep tone that was always laced with sadness.
"For what?" I asked.
This time he reached up and pushed a strand of hair from my face. "For seeing me. Most people I meet look right through me. But when you look at me, I feel real, I feel like flesh, bone and blood. ~ Tess Oliver

Elissa pulled away from Stepmama and rose to her feet. She gazed down at Mr Collingwood's tormented face and smoothed back the jet-black hair from his fore- head. I could have sworn I saw a glowing halo rise around her as she spoke. "You must forgive me, my love, and learn to forget me, for my sake."
"Oh, my Lord," I said. "You've been waiting your whole life for this, haven't you?"
"Can you doubt it?" said Angeline. "Look at the two of them! He's as bad as she is. ~ Stephanie Burgis

Releasing her wrist, he raised his shaking hand and brushed disheveled auburn hair back from her face. Her features were relaxed in sleep. Dirt-smudged. Damp with the tears she had shed for him.
At his touch, she made a sound somewhere in the back of her throat and snuggled closer with a sigh.
He didn't know who she was.
He didn't know who he was.
But in that moment, he loved her for freeing him.
The dog voiced a plaintive whine.
Speech still eluding him, he sent feelings of calm to the loyal animal.
Then, taking the woman's small, pale hand in his, he tucked it against his chest, pressed his forehead to hers, and succumbed to a deep healing sleep. ~ Dianne Duvall

I used to feel a lot of guilt about having depression but then I realized that's a lot like feeling guilty for having brown hair. ~ Jenny Lawson

Mia faces me now. The wind is whipping her hair this way and that so she looks like some kind of mystical sorceress, beautiful, powerful, and scary at the same time. She shakes her head and starts to turn away.
Oh, no! We've come this far over the bridge. She can blow the damn thing up if she wants to. But not without telling me everything. I grab her, turn her to face me. "Why not? Tell me. You owe me this!"
She looks at me, square in the eye. Taking aim. And then she pulls the trigger. "Because I hated you. ~ Gayle Forman

It wasn't surprising and it wasn't quite real. I kept thinking it was a bizarre mistake or a made-up story, until I called her mother, who told me how beautifully made up Marine's corpse was and urged me to see her at the funeral chapel. This with her cigarettes still in my ashtray, her hair still in my brush, her clothes still in my car, her voice still in my ears, so soon after we'd been looking at ourselves together in my mirror and she the more lithe, the more fluidly beautiful of the two ~ Rebecca Solnit

For a moment, Isabel's eyes met those of someone looking out of the window, a thin-faced woman with her hair done up in a bun. The woman began a smile, but stopped, as if conscious of somehow transgressing the conventions of isolation with which as city-dwellers we immure ourselves. The bus moved on, and zisabel felt a sudden desire to run alongside it, to wave to the woman, to aknowledge the unexpected exchange of fellow feeling between them. But she did mot, necause she never acted on these impulses, and because it might have puzzled or even frightened the other woman. ~ Alexander McCall Smith

If we were created from the very fiber of our birth parents' physical and emotional beings, don't you think our need to think about them would be innate? If we had primal conversations with our mother in the womb, wouldn't you say it is natural for us to think about her as we are growing up and growing old? And if our birth father's DNA helped determine the color of our hair and eyes, wouldn't you say that he is just as much a part of us as our mother and it is normal to want a relationship with him? Wherever we are in the spectrum of perceptions about our birth parents, we must rest assured that our thoughts are normal and healthy. They are part of the fiber of our being. Part of the package of being adopted. It is all about our identity ... our dual identity. ~ Sherrie Eldridge

Hey," Trenton said, breathless and sweaty.
He pulled a few yellow strands of fake hair from his face.
"Did you lose a bet?" I asked.
"As a matter of fact, I did."
Taylor and Tyler were across the room, slapping their knees and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
I slapped Trenton's ass. "You look hot, bro."
"Thanks," he said. The music started and he shook his hips at me. I pushed him away, and, undeterred, he danced across the room to entertain the crowd. ~ Jamie McGuire

What's wrong?" Lane ran his thumb over my cheek.

"I wish… I just…" I frowned, trying to find the words I wanted. "I want to go home. I want to go check on Iggy. I want this to be a really bad and really long nightmare. I wish that instead of being in the truck, we were on our couch. You'd be sitting with your legs stretched out and I'd be lying on your lap. We could watch a movie. We'd be having a beer and nachos… I'd kill for a fucking beer right now." I stopped my rambling to swallow down the lump forming in my throat.

"It will be okay." He pressed his lips to my forehead. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but someone will figure it out and they'll find a way to fix it. We're safe here for now." He maneuvered over the shift stick settled himself beside me. I laid my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes as he smoothed my hair.

"Lane?"

"Hmmm?"

I looked up at him and raised a hand to touch his cheek. My heart skipped, my lips brushed over his, and I took a deep breath. I remembered all those times I'd told him, but at the same time hadn't told him. I decided that from now on, for whatever time we had left, he'd know.

"I love you, Lane. Always have."

His smile melted every bone in my body. "I love you, Gabrielle. Always will. ~ Meaka Kyel

Dazzling ice stars bombarded the world with rays, which splintered and penetrated the earth, filling earth's core with their deadly coldness, reinforcing the cold of the advancing ice. And always, on the surface, the indestructible ice-mass was moving forward, implacably destroying all life. I felt a fearful sense of pressure and urgency, there was no time to lose, I was wasting time; it was a race between me and the ice. Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight. I saw the dead moon dance over the icebergs, as it would at the end of the world, while she watched from the tent of her glittering hair. ~ Anna Kavan

But here's the thing Ona. Howard wrote that song for you.' Quinn had never been more sure of anything. 'I think he wrote all his songs for you, Ona, for young and lovely you.'
'Now you're talking foolish.'
'He wrote them for you, and you refused them because he didn't know how to give them to you.' How could he, living his shadow of a life, floundering in the sludge of grief and failure?
'Have you been drinking?'
'Listen to me,' he said. 'You 're the glittering girl with the cherry-wood hair. You're the angel's breath and sunlight.'
'Oh, for heaven's sake.' She sat up crossly, her tufted hair seeming to quiver. 'Quinn Porter,' she said, 'I never took you for a romantic.'
'Howard Stanhope loved you,' he declared. 'I thought you should know.'
'Well, all right.'
'I thought you should know, Ona.'
'Thank you.'
'People should know these things ~ Monica Wood

I sat on a bench and my mother stood in front of me, looking down the track. Her hair was cut short, and because it had all turned gray when she was twenty-three, she always had it dyed a deep chestnut brown. It was that color all over except for a super thin stripe at the top of her head, where the gray showed through. Sometimes I wanted to touch that place on my mother's head, that thin crack where her real self had forced its way through. ~ Carol Rifka Brunt

A second technician gauges Werner's eye color against a chromatic scale on which sixty or so shades of blue are displayed. Werner's color is himmelblau, sky blue. To assess his hair color, the man snips a lock of hair from Werner's head and compares it to thirty or so other locks clipped to a board, arrayed darkest to lightest. "Schnee," the man mutters, and makes a notation. Snow. Werner's hair is lighter than the lightest color on the board. ~ Anthony Doerr

No one wants to say they hate their own body. Many are scared that if they confide in others then people will look down on them. This is wrong. It's not weak to talk about it. On the contrary. It's the same with alcoholics and drug addicts - you have to be honest with yourself first. When you have accepted the negatives you can then focus on the positives, like, I have nice hair, nice eyes, great cheekbones. ~ Crystal Renn