Nuviante Hair Care Quotes

Nuviante Hair Reviews has been turned out to be the most proficient approach to build the development, quality and repair your hair. You are never to more youthful to begin encountering male pattern baldness, notwithstanding for ladies it can turn into an issue. Numerous individuals have a go at all that they can, for example, changing the eating regimen, utilizing certain hair items and a great deal all the more, yet nothing will give you precisely what you are searching for, nothing appears to work, as of not long ago!
With an all normal and east to utilize supplement, you will be ready to understand that basic hair development you fancy, with thicker hair and much more grounded also. While you are cleaning up and you are beginning to see more hair is than ordinary, you are beginning to see your hair turn out to be flimsy, than you require Nuviante Hair Growth Treatment.
Nuviante Hair Care is an energizing new hair development supplement that is taking the business sector by tempest. With such a variety of attempting it and see compelling accomplishment with it, they are beginning to enlighten everybody they know regarding it. On the off chance that you are somebody that has battled with male pattern baldness or simply the powerlessness to become out your hair, then you have gone to the opportune spot with this best hair growth product Nuviante Hair Trials.
Nuviante Hair Care is one of the leading hair loss treatments in the form of supplement consumption. ~ Morshikachi

On the first day of fifth grade, Liz was sitting on the swing beside Liam's at recess. Falling and flying, her hair fanned out behind her and her eyes were closed, and that was what had caught his attention, her closed eyes. She looked a little bit silly and very much alive, and Liam couldn't stop watching.

Liz, on her part, was aware that the boy beside her was watching, but she loved swinging too much to care what he thought. She loved the wind hitting her face and the brief moment of suspension at the top of the arc and the falling sensation that was magnified by the darkness of her eyelids. She imagined that she was a bird, an angel, a wayward star.

At the height of the arc, she let go. And she flew.

Liam watched with his mouth hanging wide open, expecting her to crumple on the asphalt and die tragically before his eyes.

She didn't, and when she walked away, Liam's heart followed. ~ Amy Zhang

You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"
"It's different," said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely-"
"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times...."
And the meaning of Tonk's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all.
"And I've told you a million times," said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor....too dangerous...."
"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," said Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back.
"I am not being ridiculous," said Lupin steadily. "Tonks deserves somebody young and whole."
"But she wants you," said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so."
He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.
"This is....not the moment to discuss it," said Lupin, avoiding everybody's eyes as he looked around distractedly. "Dumbledore is dead...."
"Dumbledore wo ~ J.K. Rowling

As they sat at the table, she did not like the girls talking among themselves, or discussing matters she knew nothing about, and she did not encourage any mention of boyfriends. She was mainly interested in clothes and shoes, and where they could be bought and at what price and at what time of the year. Changing fashions and new trends were her daily topic, although she herself, as she often pointed out, was too old for some of the new colours and styles. Yet, Eilis saw, she dressed impeccably and noticed every item each of her lodgers was wearing. She also loved discussing skin care and different types of skin and problems. Mrs. Kehoe had her hair done once a week, on a Saturday, using the same hairdresser each time, spending several hours with her so that her hair would be perfect for the rest of the week. ~ Colm Toibin

You mean," she breathed, "you're in love with me?"
I don't care what words anyone uses," he growled, stopping his pace to stand in front of her. "Use the words of all the languages you know. Or make some up. Doesn't matter. What matters is that I want to be with you forever. Only you. And I hope to God," he said his voice rough as he stroked her hair, her face, "that you only want me." There was no glib charm now, only the raw truthh of his heart, laid bare before her. ~ Zoe Archer

listen.
it wouldn't have hurt so much if she wasn't the girl i always wanted to be.

in high school i carved the word ugly into my skin
so that even if i once reached
that pivotal point of high self esteem
i would always be reminded of who i was
underneath it all
and i wanted so badly to be
the athletic girl
who put makeup on effortlessly
who knew a thing or two about fashion
whose laughter sounded like flowers blooming
who knew what it meant to be sad,
and anxious,
but in the beautiful way
in the mysterious way
in the way that could be cured by true love's kiss
whose skin was always soft
and hair always brushed
- sometimes styled -
long, and long, and dark, and wavy
a fine contrast against her light eyes
and pale skin that never led anyone to question
just where she was from
whose body hair was fine,
or at least taken care of so frequently and expertly,
that no one ever questioned just where she fell
in human evolution
whose body curved in all the right places
whose skin was taut with muscle
and soft with and inviting where it should be
who ate right
who never smoked
and never tried to end her life;
once, twice, seventeen times
who liked art but didn't really understand it
who studied hard even though she hated it
who cared about injustice but not to the point
that too much thought ~ Kara Petrovic

I've been to the dentist a thousand times so I know the drill
I smooth my hair, sit back in the chair
But somehow I still get the chills ~ Owl City

Love Sorrow

Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,

what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so

utterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment

by herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,

as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow. ~ Mary Oliver

They're playing my favorite song." He swept her into his arms and began to move with her around the floor.
The honky-tonk music was something low and bluesy.
Marilee looked up into his face. 'I don't recognize this song.What is it?"
He gave her that soulful smile. "I don't know.But from now on it's going to be my favorite."
She felt her heart stutter.
He closed both arms around her, drawing her close.
She knew that everyone in the saloon was watching. At the moment, she didn't care. She couldn't think about anything except the press of his body to hers.The feel of those strong, muscled arms around her.The warmth of his thighs molded to hers.The touch of his mouth against her temple,his warm breath feathering her hair.
"This is nice." His voice vibrated through her, sending a series of delicious tingles along her spine.
"Yeah." She looked up into his eyes and could feel herself drowning in them.
She was melting all over him, with the entire town watching. She could actually feel her heart beginning to drum in her temples.
She knew she ought to draw back, but she couldn't.She didn't want the song to end.Or this night.
Oh,hell.Just look at her. She was falling for a footloose rebel with a smooth line who'd probably left a trail of broken hearts from Toledo to Timbuktu. The kind of guy she'd made a career of staying as far away from as possible. And here she was. Falling hard. Willingly. Right in front of the entire town.And ~ R.C. Ryan

She leaned in and hugged me. "I know. Thanks. I love you, too. And for the record, Cheyenne and Landon are soul mates and if they don't end up together, I want you to find a poltergeist to haunt the Easton Heights writers."
She pulled back, smiling at me, then reaching out to ruffle Lend's hair. "Take care of each other, you two obnoxious kids."
Then, throwing her shoulders back and staring straight forward, she walked through the gate. I watched, dreading seeing her turn into dust or something, but gasped in relief and joy as her ruined, unnaturally preserved body blossomed into something new, something strong and proud and undeniably alive.
She turned back, just once, and although she was nearly unrecognizable, I could see our Arianna in her smile that managed to maintain its trademark ironic twist.
"I'm going to miss her," I said.
"What?" Lend shouted.
"I said, I'm going to miss her!"
"I can't hear you! I'm going to miss her! ~ Kiersten White

We could just chill if you want."
Emma raises a brow at Rachel. Rachel shrugs her innocence. "Nuh-uh. Don't look at me. I didn't teach him that."
"Picked it up all on my own," he says, retrieving his pencil from the floor.
"Figures," Emma sneers.
"Aww, don't hate on me, boo."
"Okay, I'm drawing the line at 'boo.' And don't call me 'shorty' either," Emma says.
He laughs. "That was next."
"No doubt. So, did anyone explain how you chill?"
Galen shrugs. "As far as I can tell, chillin' is the equivalent of being in a coma, only awake."
"That's about right."
"Yeah. Doesn't sound that appealing. Are all humans lazy?"
"Don't push it, Highness." But she's smirking.
"If I'm Highness, then you're 'boo.' Period."
Emma growls, but it doesn't sound as fierce as she intends. In fact, it's adorable. "Jeez! I won't call you Majesty either. And you Will. Not. Ever Call me 'boo' again."
His grin feels like it reaches all the way to his ears as he nods. "Did...did I just win an argument?"
She rolls her eyes. "Don't be stupid. We tied."
He laughs. "If you say I won, I'll let you open your present."
She glances at the gift bag and bites her lip-also adorable. She looks back at him. "Maybe I don't care about the present."
"Oh, you definitely care," he says, confident.
"No. I definitely do NOT," she says, crossing her arms.
He runs a hand through his hair. If she makes it any more difficult, he'll hav ~ Anna Banks

Government has no right to hurt a hair on the head of an Atheist for his Opinions. Let him have a care of his Practices.

{Letter to his son and future president, John Quincy Adams, 16 June 1816} ~ John Adams

In my world, Adam would like the shy girl who sits quietly in the corner and avoids the gossips and giggles; the girl who works solidly with her head down and her hair falling about her face. He'd like the girl who doesn't care much about make-up and clothes, and whose beauty shines through every time she smiles and laughs. He'd find her mysterious and fascinating. ~ Annalisa Crawford

I wish you'd told me this before."
"It wouldn't have changed anything."
"Maybe not. But talking about wounds can help heal them."
"You don't talk about yours," she pointed out.
He sat down on the sofa facing her and leaned forward. "But I do," he said seriously. "I talk to you. I've never told anyone else about the way my father treated us. That's a deeply personal thing. I don't share it. I can't share it with anyone but you."
"I'm part of your life," she said heavily, smoothing her hair back again. "Neither of us can help that. You were my comfort when Mama died, my very salvation when my stepfather hurt me. But I can't expect you to go on taking care of me. I'm twenty-five years old, Tate. I have to let you go."
"No, you don't." He caught her wrists and pulled her closer. He was more solemn than she'd ever seen him. "I'm tired of fighting it. Let's find out how deep your scars ago. Come to bed with me, Cecily. I know enough to make it easy for you."
She stared at him blankly. "Tate…" She touched his lean cheek hesitantly. He was offering her paradise, if she could face her own demons in bed with him. "This will only make things worse, whatever happens."
"You want me," he said gently. "And I want you. Let's get rid of the ghosts. If you can get past the fear, I won't have anyone else from now on except you. I'll come to you when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when the world falls on me. I'll lie in your arms and comfort you when you're sad ~ Diana Palmer

As I bounded out the kitchen door, I saw everyone milling about in the driveway, attempting to cram all our worldly goods into their respective vehicles. Layla was leaning against her car, the sunlight bouncing off her dark brown hair, and I swear to God, the world around her disappeared. I had tunnel vision as I walked straight toward her, dropped my bag on the ground, and pulled her to me for a kiss. I was pretty sure all our friends were watching and I didn't care. I always knew this girl was created to be in my arms. It was about time everyone else realized it, too. ~ T. Torrest

Farrakhan got everybody together for the Million Man March and everything. But Farrakhan don't like the Jews. Which is bugged. I get my hair cut on Dekalb Avenue. I never been in a barbershop and heard a bunch of brothers talking about Jews. Black people don't hate Jews. Black people hate white people! We don't got time to dice white people up into little groups. I hate everybody! I don't care if you just got here. "Hey, I'm Romanian." "You Romanian cracker!" ~ Chris Rock

She had what it took: great hair, a profound understanding of strategic lip gloss, the intelligence to understand the world and a tiny secret interior deadness which meant she didn't care. ~ Douglas Adams

I don't spend money on shoes. I don't spend money on my hair. I don't spend money on really anything except for my skin. I am obsessed with skin, and I have been taking care of it since I was 19. ~ Sara Foster

Denim miniskirt. Tight white T-shirt. Scooped neck. Extraordinarily olive skin. Legs that make you care about legs. Perfectly coiffed curly brown hair. A laminated button reading ME FOR PROM QUEEN. Lacey Pemberton. Walking toward us. ~ John Green

Dear Future Daughter:

1) When you're at some party, chain smoking on the roof with some strange girl with blue hair and exorbitant large dark eyes, ask her about her day. I promise you, you won't regret it. Often times you'll find the strangest of people have the most captivating of stories to tell.

2) Please, never mistake desire for love. Love will engulf your soul, whilst desire will emerge as acid, slowly making it's way through your veins, gradually burning you from the inside out.

3) No one is going to fucking save you, anything you've read or heard otherwise is bullshit.

4) One day a boy is going to come along who's touch feels like fire and who's words taste like vanilla, when he leaves you, you will want to die. If you know anything at all, know that it is only temporary.

5) Your mental health comes before school baby, always. If its midnight, and you have an exam the next day but your hands have been shaking for the past hour and a half and you're not so sure you want to be alive anymore, pull out that carton of Ben and Jerry's and afterwards, go the fuck to bed. So what if you get a 68% on the exam the next day? You took care of yourself and at the end of the day that will always come before a high test score. To hell with anyone who tells you differently. ~ Abbie Nielsen

What do you care more about? The kids or your hair? ~ Ridley Pearson

It is not Beauty I demand,
A crystal brow, the moon's despair,
Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand,
Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair.

Tell me not of your starry eyes,
Your lips that seem on roses fed,
Your breasts where Cupid trembling lies,
Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed.

...Give me, instead of beauty's bust,
A tender heart, a loyal mind,
Which with temptation I could trust,
Yet never linked with error find.

One in whose gentle bosom I
Could pour my secret heart of woes.
Like the care-burdened honey-fly
That hides his murmurs in the rose.

My earthly comforter! whose love
So indefeasible might be,
That when my spirit won above
Hers could not stay for sympathy. ~ George Darley

My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest

It wasn't until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.

And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn't mind burning my skin.

The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I'd drink forever if it meant you'd never stop.

And in public you'd hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn't mind

When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go

Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered. ~ Carol Shlyakhova

Do you want children?"

His eyes slid to me as he grabbed a menu.

He answered cautiously, "Yeah."

"How many?"

He turned to me and his arm went around the back of my chair.

"Three."

I thought about three children. They weren't pleasant thoughts.

"And you?" Lee asked, gently tugging my hair.

"Hmm?"

"Kids?"

"I can't even take care of my yard," I reminded him.

He smiled The Smile and I immediately decided I'd like three kids a whole lot. ~ Kristen Ashley

Gregori tugged on her hair to force her back to him. "You make me feel alive, Savannah."
"Do I? Is that why you're swearing?" She turned onto her stomach, propping herself up onto her elbows.
He leaned into her, brushing his mouth across the swell of her breast. "You are managing to tie me up in knots. You take away all my good judgement."
A slight smile curved her mouth. "I never noticed that you had particularly good judgement to begin with."
His white teeth gleamed, a predator's smile, then sank into soft bare flesh. She yelped but moved closer to him when his tongue swirled and caressed, taking away the sting. "I have always had good judgement," he told her firmly, his teeth scraping back and forth in the valley between her breasts.
"So you say.But that doesn't make it so. You let evil idiots shoot you with poisoned darts. You go by yourself into laboratories filled with your enemies. Need I go on?" Her blue eyes were laughing at him.
Her firm, rounded bottom was far too tempting to resist. He brought his open palm down in mock punishment. Savannah jumped, but before she could scoot away, his palm began caressing, producing a far different effect. "Judging from our positions, ma petite, I would say my judgement looks better than yours."
She laughed. "All right,I'm going to let you win this time."
"Would you care for a shower?" he asked solicitously.
When she nodded, Gregori flowed off the bed, lifted her high into his arms,and ~ Christine Feehan

There's not one woman in America who does not care about her hair, but we give it way too much value. We deprive ourselves of things, we use it to destroy each other, we'll look at a child and judge a mother and her sense of motherhood by the way the child's hair looks. I am not going to traumatize my child about her hair. I want her to love her hair. ~ Viola Davis

Hey Cabe?" she says, drying her hair, feeling refreshed. Grinning. Putting all thoughts but one aside for the moment. "You wanna go get Jimmy a raincoat and we'll take care of you?"
Cabel looks at her.
Turns his head and narrows his eyes.
Who the hell is Jimmy? ~ Lisa McMann

My husband and I are in preproduction of three movies, a Latin show, and a children's animation. I'm doing a very unique nail polish line, and finally, I'm developing a hair care line because people always ask me about my hair care system. I do a mask once a week that my grandma taught me how to make, so I want to share it with everyone. ~ Joyce Giraud

Henry slides his hand into her hair and brings her face to his. "Go in the back with Logan and Ellie. I will take care of this."
Sarah blinks, breathing deeply. Then she shakes her head. "No. No, I can do it. I need to, I think. Just . . . stay with me?"
Henry brushes her hair back. "Always. ~ Emma Chase

Tell the trafic jams to no open their roads to you.
Tell the eyes that meet you on the road, that I'm no longer jealous.
Tell the souls that share with you the details of your day, that I no longer wish to be them.
Tell to the one I advised to take care of you, to forget my advice, and to neglect you as she wants.
Tell your pillow to not be gentle with your head.
Tell your tooth brush to not be gentle with your gums.
Tell your hair brush to not care about your head skin.
Tell your blanket to not give you warmth.
Tell your winter clothes to not protect you from the cold.
Tell the streets' dogs to frighten you.
Tell your car's other seat that I no longer dream of sitting on it.
Tell your country that I no longer dream of flying to it.
Tell your friends, your coworkers, your best friend, your neighbours, the world, the universe, your ground, your sky, I broke your chains, and I no longer care about you. So leave on the story's seat a dry flower, and leave my memory. ~ Shahrazad Al-Khalij

As I've said before, "the Mod generation", contrary to popular belief, was not born in even 1958, but in the 1920s after a steady gestation from about 1917 or so. Now, Mod certainly came of age, fully sure of itself by 1958, completely misunderstood by 1963, and in a perpetual cycle of reinvention and rediscovery of itself by 1967 and 1975, respectively, but it was born in the 1920s, and I will maintain this. I don't care who disagrees with me, and there are dozens of reasons that I do so - from the Art Deco aesthetic, to flapper fashions (complete with bobbed hair), to androgyny and subtle effeminacy, to jazz. ~ Ruadhan J. McElroy

Amour, love, the dream of man,
Woman's deep devoted plan.
Amour

Amor means no hungry child,
Begging, hair blowing wild.

Searching amongst the rats and mice,
Left-over food, contaminated rice.
Eyes, the saddest soul sight,
Hidden is the child's plight.
Bleeding feet, glass cut bare,
Dirty rags for a child to wear.
Clambering through the bin,
Society's senseless sin.

Amor, love save this child's life,
Poverty is the nefarious knife,
A child of poverty and strife,
Deserves amour, love of life.

Maureen Brindle from Beloved Isles
[Inspired by H.H. Princess Maria Amor We Care for Humanity] ~ Maureen Brindle

I was talking about Cady's hair," says Bonnie. "You don't have to tell her she looks dead." "It's okay," I tell Bonnie. "I don't actually care what you think, so it's perfectly okay. ~ E. Lockhart

There was a time with his wife on this river or a river just like it, it can't be this river, but in his memory it is this one. A time on a wash just like this where he lay shirtless with her shivering in the August night, jeans pasted dark and wet to his knocking legs, his torso white to glowing in the moonlight. Her hair tendriled and framed about her face like an outlandish black tattoo. Her wet dress like a sleeve of molting skin, which of a sort it had been that whole night in their dancing. Her heart in its red and white cage knocking just inches from his own, like two young prisoners tapping out simpleton Morse I am here I am here I am here. Here I am for your pleasure for you forever. On a river like this where he impregnated her. A river promise too, he said I love you I love you. Seventeen years old. A pleasure so total that even then he knew he had mortgaged years to her and he did not care. ~ Smith Henderson

Bradley Headstone, in his decent black coat and waistcoat, and decent white shirt, and decent formal black tie, and decent pantaloons of pepper and salt, with his decent silver watch in his pocket and its decent hair-guard round his neck, looked a thoroughly decent young man of six-and-twenty. He was never seen in any other dress, and yet there was a certain stiffness in his manner of wearing this, as if there were a want of adaptation between him and it, recalling some mechanics in their holiday clothes. He had acquired mechanically a great store of teacher's knowledge. He could do mental arithmetic mechanically, sing at sight mechanically, blow various wind instruments mechanically, even play the great church organ mechanically. From his early childhood up, his mind had been a place of mechanical stowage. The arrangement of his wholesale warehouse, so that it might be always ready to meet the demands of retail dealers history here, geography there, astronomy to the right, political economy to the left - natural history, the physical sciences, figures, music, the lower mathematics, and what not, all in their several places - this care had imparted to his countenance a look of care; while the habit of questioning and being questioned had given him a suspicious manner, or a manner that would be better described as one of lying in wait. There was a kind of settled trouble in the face. It was the face belonging to a naturally slow or inattentive intellect that had toiled hard to ~ Charles Dickens

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

The following night she came to his bed and she came every night for nine nights running, pushing the door shut and latching it and turning in the slatted light at God knew what hour and stepping out of her clothes and sliding cool and naked against him in the narrow bunk all softness and perfume and the lushness of her black hair falling over him and no caution to her at all. Saying I dont care I dont care. Drawing blood with her teeth where he held the heel of his hand against her mouth that she not cry out. ~ Cormac McCarthy

That is not my car!"
"Correction. You used to drive a falling apart Toyota. B.A."
Had his lips just brushed her hair? She shivered. And though she knew better than to ask, she did it anyway.
"Okay. You got me. What's B.A.?"
"Before. Adam. After Adam, you drive a BMW. I take care of what is mine. That Toyota wasn't safe."
Figured that arrogant beast would define himself as the dawning of an epoch.
"I'm not yours. It was too, and you can't just go around stealing."
"I didn't, and I filled out the paperwork myself. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Did you tell my mother that you called me a bitch last night,too?" I asked him. "Because that's the best way I know to win parents over."
For a split second,he looked uncomfortable. Almost immediately, he recovered and went back on the offensive. "You shouldn't wear those jeans.People might think something."
I stomped my foot on the stair. "Like what? I want to show off my fire-crotch? What do you care? God! Stop following me." My hair was down now, and I felt it smack into his chest as I whirled around and flounced down the rest of the stairs, across the lobby, and into the cold night. ~ Jennifer Echols

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

NOURISH YOUR HAIR:
1. There are a number of 'kitchen recipes' for feeding hair. It needs the contents of your refrigerator just as much as your skin does. Right back to mayonnaise! Olive oil, eggs, and lemon juice. Massage the mixture into your hair, let it stay on for ten or fifteen minutes, then rinse it off with cool water. Cool - or you'll have scrambled eggs on your head.
2. For years I washed my daughter' hair with raw eggs, never soap or shampoo. I wet their hair fist and then rubbed in six whole eggs, one by one - a trick I learned from Katherine. Hepburn. (Four eggs will do for short hair, but theirs was long.) Some people use eggs beaten up with a jigger of rum; others mix an egg with red wine.
3. Hot oils is good for dry hair. Apply it with the fingertips and then wrap your head in a warm towel. Keep changing the oil for an hour, to keep it hot and penetrating. Then shampoo.
4. I believe in brushing. I made my girls give their hair the old-fashioned hundred strokes every night, using two brushes, and bending forward from the waist. It stimulates hair grows, and the rush of blood to the face is an added benefit. I pull my hair gently to encourage growth too. ~ Joan Crawford

He lifted the lavender soap to his hair, and she squeaked.
"You don't use that in your hair," she hissed, jolting from her perch to reach for one of the many
hair tonics lining the little shelf above the bath. "Rose, lemon verbena, or ... " She sniffed the glass
bottle. "Jasmine." She squinted down at him.
He was staring up at her, his green eyes full of the words he knew he didn't have to say. Do I look
like I care what you pick? ~ Sarah J. Maas

He stared at my wet hair. "You been under that fucking waterfall again?"
"Not today." I didn't get why it bothered him so much, unless maybe the thought it set a bad example for Nicki. "Why do you care?"
He shrugged. "I don't. Knock your brains loose if you want." He blew out a huge cloud of smoke, which I thought was a pretty ironic thing to do while giving me a safety lecture. ~ Jennifer R. Hubbard

What Jessica said - hair much shorter, wearing a darker mouth of different outline, harder lipstick, her typewriter banking in a phalanx of letters between them - was: "We're going to be married. We're trying very hard to have a baby."
All at once there is nothing but his asshole between Gravity and Roger. "I don't care. Have his baby. I'll love you both - just come with me Jess, please ... I need you ... "
She flips a red lever on her intercom. Far away a buzzer goes off. "Security." Her voice is perfectly hard, the word still clap-echoing in the air as in through the screen door of the Quonset office wth a smell of tide flats come the coppers, looking grim. Security. Her magic word, her spell against demons. ~ Thomas Pynchon

Cassidy is the best girlfriend ever. I've dated her for a full two months longer than anyone else. She's smart and witty and original and can chug a beer faster than most guys I know. On top of that, she is absolutely beautiful. I mean spanktacular. Talk about pure colors. She's high-definition. Scandinavian blond hair, eyes as blue as fiords, skin like vanilla ice cream or flower petals or sugar frosting - or really not like anything else but just her skin. It makes my hair ache. Of course, she does believe in astrology, but I don't even care about that. It's a girl thing. I think of it like she has constellations and fortunes whirling around inside her. ~ Tim Tharp