Messy Hair Quotes

Perhaps that was the advantage to persistently messy hair--he managed to make it go with anything. ~ Brandon Sanderson

She is the force, that you end up
reading about in thick novels. She is
the kind of woman, you adore,
for being so content with messy hair.
She is the kind, who would
decline whatever the mankind would exalt-
and redesign everything that is
inclined to remind her
of how strongly, the society wants her confined.
To this girl, on a romantic date,
he asked the question inaccurate-
"Honey, why do you always take the road
that is so untold, hard and loathed?"
She thought of giving him a second chance,
and resisting any anger-loaded advance,
She replied, "Why do you speculate,
that I choose my fate,
imagining there are two roads? ~ Jasleen Kaur Gumber

Hey Wanda! Hey Ian!" Jamie was all grins, his messy hair bouncing as he moved..."Guess what? Jared was saying at lunch that he didn't think it was fair for you to have to move out of the room you were used to. He said we weren't being good hosts. He said you should move back in with me! Isn't that great? I asked him if I could tell you right away, and he said that was a good idea. He said you would be in here."
"I'll bet he did," Ian murmured.
"So, what do you think, Wanda? We get to be roomies again!"
"But Jamie, where will Jared stay?"
"Wait - let me guess," Ian interrupted. "I bet he said the room was big enough for three. Am I right?"
"Yeah. How did you know?"
"Lucky guess"
...
"Will you come back?" Jamie begged against my shoulder..."If that's what you want, Jamie. Okay."
"Woo hoo!" Jamie crowed in my ear. "Cool! I'm gonna go tell Jared! I'll get you some food, too, okay?...You want something, Ian?"
"Sure, kid. I want you to tell Jared he's shameless. ~ Stephenie Meyer

When I was growing up, I always thought my hair was messy. ~ Julia Louis-Dreyfus

If people thought you were dying they gave you their full attention. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

I've always had really messy hair. ~ Ed Sheeran

I watch her as she leaves. Everything about her is fluid as a river. Her messy hair, her xylophone voice, the strokes of her paintbrush. Even her camouflage army jacket hangs loose, flowing like ribbons. ~ Lisa Ann Sandell

Tell me what you and my dad were talking about."
Jay jerked away from her as if she'd just slapped him. And Violet realized that she might as well have. He sat up quickly, as if his mind had suddenly cleared from the sensuous haze, and abruptly the teasing grin was wiped clean from his face.
"Never mind," she blurted, trying to backpedal. "Forget I said anything." She wanted to go back to where they just were. But it was too late. The determined set of his jaw told her that.
"No," he said harshly. "I think we should talk about this, Violet." Even the way he said her name was suddenly hard and angry. "Your dad told me what happened today...out in the woods. He told me that you tracked down the guy who's been killing all the girls around here...that you put yourself in danger." Violet couldn't tell if he was angry or annoyed...or both. He ran his hand through his messy hair in an agitated gesture that indicated he was getting all worked up. "And it's not like it was the first time you've done that. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, and you're the only person I know who doesn't seem to care. I don't even want to think about what could have happened to you if I hadn't shown up last night while Grady was...assaulting you." He paused as if it really was too much to think about, and then he continued to rail at her. "You can't even go to the mall safely. I made a promise to your parents, and you just wandered off without even telling me where you were going ~ Kimberly Derting

Over the years, I have perfected my "just rolled out of bed" style by, more often than not, just rolling out of bed. I've cultivated the look since I've found that ladies like my messy hair - it's an excuse to run their fingers through it. More important, it's yet another component to my whole strategy: nothing works better in a wolf's quest for getting laid than looking like you've just gotten laid. ~ Edward Vilga

I love a strong brow and ChapStick with glowing skin and messy hair. I'm a minimalist at heart. ~ Ariana Madix

In my baggy jeans and messy hair, I know I don't fit into this plastic palace. But I don't want to fit in. That's when no one notices you. You leave a longer impression when you're brave enough to stand out. ~ Katie Kacvinsky

Unusual things, they quickly grab my attention. Messy hair and rainy days are my kinds of perfection, but I mostly love when you kiss me hard and take me beyond this realm to that holy place I only find with you. ~ Melody Lee

In his frenzied thoughts, he couldn't help thinking of Cinder at the ball. How happy he'd been to see her descending the stairs into the ball room. How innocently amused he'd been at her rain-drenched hair and wrinkled dress, thinking it was a fitting look for the city's most renowned mechanic. He'd thought she must be immune to society's whims of fashion and decorum. So comfortable in her own skin that she could come to a royal ball as the emperor's own guest with messy hair and oil stains on her gloves and keep her head high as she did so. ~ Marissa Meyer

The only people for me are the ones who spill things, the ones who drop their cups sometimes, the ones who get dirty hands and messy hair, the ones who can go barefoot if they feel like it, the people who forget things, and can laugh at themselves every day ... ~ C. JoyBell C.

On my own I generally have very messy hair, wear jeans and sneakers. ~ Jewel

Wave after wave of an orgasm broke over her, but soon it would be over for him. "Stop," Livia panted.
Blake paused as Livia swallowed to try to compose herself. She was here for a reason. "The mask. Take it off. I want you to kiss me." Livia watched his eyes. He was scared.
"Blake, you're inside of me. I'll keep you safe. You're inside of me." Livia squeezed him again, reminding him exactly where he was.
Blake smiled at the sensation. "Do it for me, Livia. Please."
And even though they were naked and locked in the most intimate embrace, this was the striptease.
Livia went slowly, rolling up the knit ski mask like a stocking. First his jaw came into the light. Livia slowed, tracing its strong line with her finger. Next, his lips lost their frame, then his eyes left their prison. He closed them. Finally, his wild, messy hair was free. Livia tossed the mask aside. And waited.
Open your eyes.
After a moment Blake looked around his sunny meadow. A breeze stirred the trees high up, and they released a shower of fall colors. In the silence of the day, the leaves hitting the ground sounded like applause. Quiet applause for a quiet victory.
The o in sorry vanished.
Blake looked at Livia beneath him. She smiled.
"Five hundred ninety-eight," he whispered.
Still counting. "Yes! Yes. I knew you could do this. I knew you could do this." Livia beamed with pride.
Blake blurred as her eyes became two pools of tears. He kissed her sof ~ Debra Anastasia

I backed us up against the wall. "How I feel? You want to know?" I ran my hands over his face and tangled them into his messy hair. "This is unlike anything else. I've bungeed off buildings, I've skateboarded off roofs. I've even gone train surfing. Nothing comes close to the high I feel when I'm with you. You've been through horrible things, and yet you're one of the kindest, truest people I've ever met. At first I thought it was because you were
safe. I could feel something for you because you couldn't hurt me. Not the way Alex did. But it's more than that. It's you. Who you are. The way you are. Everything from your smile to the way you always say exactly what's on your mind. Your soul, Kale. ~ Jus Accardo

Messy hair, uncombed, gel-free, un-styled and perfectly imperfect. ~ Jasinda Wilder

You're stunning, Kyrie. Whether you're done up in Dior and jewels, or just woken up in a sundress and messy hair, you are, very honestly, the most lovely woman I've ever know. You don't need fancy hair and makeup to take my breath a way away, Kyire. You just have to be you. ~ Jasinda Wilder

Her messy hair a visible attribute of her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles knowing wild is her favorite color. ~ J. Iron Word

I'm with the dirty mouth girls. The ones with bare feet, brilliant minds, messy hair, wild hearts, and feisty spirits. The ones who aren't afraid to speak up and who live for doing what they've been told is impossible." ~ Brooke Hampton ~ ~ Brooke Hampton

He shakes his head. His dark messy hair has a few curls in it today.It's quite breathtaking,really.If there were an Olympics competition in hair, St. Clair would totally win,hands down. Ten-point-oh.Gold medal. ~ Stephanie Perkins

To me, what's sexy is when you look like you're having a good time. That, and when you look effortless and have messy hair, ~ Kate Upton

Her face was not young, but it was simple; it was not fresh, but it was mild. She had large eyes which were not bright, and a great deal of hair which was not 'dressed,' and long fine hands which were
possibly
not clean. ~ Henry James

Women did such things and went on doing them while the sun died because in all of women's lives there were so many moments that would kill the mind if one thought about them, which would suck the heart and the life out of one, and engrave lines in the face and put gray in the hair if ever one let one's mind work; but there was in the rhythm and the fascination of the stitches a loss of thought, a void, a blank, that was only numbers and not even that, because the mind did not need to count, the fingers did, the length of a thread against the finger measured evenly as a ruler could divide it, the slight difference in tension sensed finely as a machine could sense, the exact number of stitches keeping pattern without really the need to count, but something inward and regular as the beat of a heart, as the slow passing of time which could be frozen in such acts, or speeded past. ~ C.J. Cherryh

But transitions from the politics of violence to democratic compromise are always messy. ~ Timothy Garton Ash

Maybe "having enough" has a second meaning beyond the basic economic security a family needs. Maybe it means accepting that a rich full life with a job and family will be rewarding, but it certainly won't be perfect. As many of us who have combined kids and careers know all too well, some days it's really pretty messy. And that's OK. ~ Willow Bay

There's a danger in romanticizing what it means to be a writer. Because what it really means is hard, hard work. It means tearing your hair out. Feeling like your head is about to explode. ~ Dani Shapiro

Get messy. Play in the dirt. Take a few falls, let them happen. Cuts and bruises, scrapes and scars are good for the soul – You bleed, you heal, you rise. ~ Melody Lee

Sarah felt like the bad girl in an eighties teen flick. The girl with big hair and a tight shirt who seduces the nice girl's boyfriend but loses him in the end, because she's shallow and tacky and no match for a sweet girl with good morals and freshly scrubbed skin. ~ Emily Maguire

To make lashes curl better, take a hair dryer to your eyelash curler for one or two seconds before using it. ~ Isla Fisher

My head rested on his shoulder, my heart rested entirely in his hands And in a whisper, my words escaped: "I love you." He probably hadn't heard them. He was too focused on the movie. But he heard me; I could tell. His arms enveloped me even further; his embrace tightened. He breathed in and sighed, and his hand played with my hair. "Good," he said softly, and his gentle lips found mine. ~ Ree Drummond

An awkward silence followed these bold declarations, because while both parties spoke with passion, one was a dying youth and one a ragged peasant girl with straw in her hair and no shoes. Neither was the stuff of heroes and legends, and both knew it. ~ Anne Elisabeth Stengl

You sound surprised."
"Not surprised, really. It's just that…." Heller flashed me a sheepish look. "I haven't actually told him I love him."
"Really?" I assumed he had. Didn't mates do that?
"Really, and I don't know why I haven't since I started falling in love with him the moment I looked into those sexy gunmetal eyes of his. Gods, those eyes of his. It's like rolling in catnip."
I leaned against my truck. Oh, this was almost too good. "Is this you waxing poetically?"
"Don't hate me because I have great hair and a way with words. Jeez, Remi, I do. I do love him. Wow." Heller looked at me, a happy smile plastered on his face. "I feel so much lighter now that I said it. I love him."
"Of course you do. He's your mate."
Heller's smiled
dipped. "It's not that simple, and you damn well know it. Are you saying you love Marshell?"
"Whoa, there." I held up my hands - like that was going to stop him. "I just met him. ~ M.A. Church

Miller and the new man nodded to each other. The girl tugged at her father's sleeve, demanding his attention. Miller looked at her - dark eyes, pale hair, smooth skin. She was already too tall to be mistaken for an Earth child, her limbs longer and thinner. Her skin had the pink flush of Belter babies, which came with the pharmaceutical cocktail that assured that their muscles and bones would grow strong. Miller saw the father notice his attention. Miller smiled and nodded toward the kid. How ~ James S.A. Corey

A few small changes in your DNA can turn your eyes blue, make you lactose intolerant or put some curl in your hair. ~ Anne Wojcicki

Cade studied her for a moment, then sat forward in his chair. "Seriously, what is it about this guy? He's just a rich computer geek with good hair."

Rylann smiled. "I think there's a little more to it than that."

"Christ, you are smitten." He threw up his hands. "What is going on with everyone these days? Sam Wilkins is babbling about a meet-cute, Cameron's sneaking off to get hitched, and now you're all starry-eyed over the Twitter Terrorist. Has everyone been sneaking happy pills out of the evidence room when I'm not looking?"

"No, just some really good pot."

Cade laughed out loud at that. "You are a funny one, Pierce. I'll say that."

"So does that mean we're still on for Starbucks later today?"

He studied her suspiciously. "You're not going to want to talk about Kyle Rhodes the whole time, are you?"

"Actually, yes. And then we'll go shoe shopping together and get mani-pedis." She threw him a get-real look. "We'll talk about the same stuff we always talk about."

With a grin, he finally nodded. "Fine. Three o'clock, Pierce. I'll swing by your office ~ Julie James

Different kinds of tired:

1. All day at the beach sleepy. Warm skin. Wet hair. Salt and sand and green-apple scented shampoo. Bed sheet tides pulling up and down stomach flips into mermaid dreams.

2. Milky tired. Early nights. Wondering if you are getting sick. Medicine light bones. Eyelids melting closed. Dizzy, dizzy, spinning into sleep.

3. Drowsy car rides. Soft radio buzz. Pillow on the window. Pulling on your seatbelt. Waking up and not knowing where you are. ~ Unknown

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

His hair was parted neatly on the left side in a way that he would have found absolutely horrifying. ~ John Green

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

Fire bursts inside me. My lips part under his. Coming up on my toes, I fist my hands in his hair and kiss him back, sharing the flames that lick at my soul. I breathe as he breathes, liquid heat in my veins.
He kisses me like I am water and he is parched. He is gentle and rough, taking and giving. In that moment, his kiss is all I know, all I ever want to know.
I come up higher on my toes and my lips cling to his as he pulls away. I'm left shaken and out of my element. I've never been kissed like that. I never imagined such a kiss existed. ~ Eve Silver

A gentleman holds my hand.
A man pulls my hair.
A soulmate will do both. ~ Alessandra Torre

When the bullhorn signaled that he'd met the qualifying time,he struggled to gather his wits,waiting until Devil was right alongside the gate before he freed his hand,cutting himself loose. He flew through the air and over the corral fence,landing in the dirt at Marilee Trainor's feet.
"My God! Don't move." She was beside him in the blink of an eye,kneeling in the dirt,probing for broken bones.
Wyatt lay perfectly still,enjoying the feel of those clever, practiced hands moving over him.When she moved from his legs to his torso and arms,he opened his eyes to narrow slits and watched her from beneath lowered lids.
She was the perfect combination of beauty and brains.He could see the wheels turning as she did a thorough exam.Even her brow,furrowed in concentration,couldn't mar that flawless complexion. Her eyes, the color of the palest milk chocolate, were narrowed in thought.Strands of red hair dipped over one cheek, giving her a sultry look.
Satisfied that nothing was broken, she sat back on her heels,feeling a moment of giddy relief. That was when she realized that he was staring.
She waved a hand before his eyes. "How many fingers can you see?"
"Four fingers and a thumb. Or should I say four beautiful,long,slender fingers and one perfect thumb,connected to one perfect arm of one perfectly gorgeous female? And,I'm happy to add,there's no ring on the third finger of that hand."
She caught the smug little grin on his lips. Her tone hardened. " ~ R.C. Ryan

An equally shaggy tuft of hair dangled from his chin, the classification somewhere between beard, goatee, and flower gone to seed. ~ Lindsay Buroker

Passivity is really a crappy substitute for manhood. But it's as common as facial hair on a hipster, or salmon-breath on a grizzly bear. ~ Josh Hatcher

My mother was my Girl Scout leader, and George's mother was his Cub Scout leader. In fact, that's when some say her hair turned white. ~ Laura Bush

Goodness knows I have spent more than my fair share of days with a naked face and rat's nest hair while still feeling good about life, but tonight I am claustrophobic in my own skin. ~ Angie Martin

Simon, as always, stuck out at the club like a sore thumb, in jeans and an old T-shirt that said MADE IN BROOKLYN across the front. His freshly scrubbed hair was dark brown instead of green or pink, and his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his nose. He looked less as if he were contemplating the powers of darkness and more as if he were on his way to chess club. ~ Cassandra Clare

Connor dipped his head and kissed from her neck to her collarbone, and down her arm as he slipped the sark off her shoulder revealing the satiny skin beneath. When he got to her fingers, he nipped her ring finger and Mackenzie gasped as he drew it into his mouth and sucked. He raised his eyes back to hers and trapped her gaze in his own. Connor slid her sark down her body and Mackenzie was helpless to do anything but stare into the dark blue pools of molten desire his eyes had become. It was a heady feeling to know that she was the reason his eyes were so dark; she had never before felt so powerful. He wanted her and this time she knew what to do.

Mackenzie unwrapped his plaid from the chieftain brooch and pushed it off his shoulder. Connor held perfectly still and let it fall to the floor with Mackenzie's pile of clothes. Next Mackenzie dragged his shirt over his head; it too joined the growing pile of clothing. Mackenzie couldn't help but marvel at his hard body with all its scars hinting at the power and danger this man carried. She let her fingers trail down from his chest to the patch of hair on his stomach, and lower still. She could feel his muscles clench and his breath stop as she wrapped her fingers around his erection. She quickly found his rhythm and knelt down to press her lips to his lower abs. Trailing her mouth down to where her hand was, she gently licked the tip. She felt a thrill of satisfaction as his hands gripped her shoulders and as her mout ~ Laura Hunsaker

I like the way you've let your hair go curly," he finally said. "Suits your personality. Lots of energy, not much control, sexy as hell,"
Joe Morelli to Stephanie Plum ~ Janet Evanovich

Finally, when they asked him to speak, he found her gray eyes.
His voice was husky and raspy, but his words were clear. "Livia. You love me."
Beckett let her go as she climbed back onto Blake's bed. Blake moved slowly, but he seemed determined and winced only a little as he reached for her shoulders and pulled Livia against his chest. She wanted to say something, but her sobs took those words from her.
His raspy voice moved her hair with his precious, perfect words. "You're here. With me."
Livia grabbed a fistful of his hospital gown. The strength that had sustained her dissolved into gratitude. To see his light, his face, everything that was Blake again brought relief like she'd never known. He rubbed her back as her body shook with sobs. ~ Debra Anastasia

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes. ~ Rick Riordan

I told you, Baby. They're gonna love you. Love you like I love you, love you, Shepley said, tucking her hair behind her ear. ~ Jamie McGuire

I stared at her black hair. It was shiny like the promises in magazines. ~ Alice Sebold

I love having my hair and makeup done for red carpets, but to have that done every day would be exhausting. ~ Carrie Underwood

This will happen again, love. Mark my words. I'm going to fuck you so good that all your rules about us won't even matter. I hope you're ready."
I smile, grip his hair, and pull him back so we're eye to eye. "Bring it. ~ Corinne Michaels