Quotes About Pink Hair
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I used to be obsessed with Pearl Jam, but I love having pink hair and kind of looking like a Barbie. ~ Ellie Goulding
The religious leaders of the day had written the script for the Messiah. When Jesus announced he was the Messiah, the Pharisees and others screamed at him, "There is no Jesus in the Messiah script. Messiahs do not hang out with losers. Our Messiah does not break all the rules, Our Messiah does not question our leadership or threaten our religion or act so irresponsibly. Our Messiah does not disregard his reputation, befriend riffraff, or frequent the haunts of questionable people." Jesus' reply? "This Messiah does"! Do you see why Christianity is called "good news"? Christianity proclaims that it is an equal-opportunity faith, open to all, in spite of the abundance of playwrights in the church who are more than anxious to announce, "There is no place for you in Christianity if you [wear an earring/have a tattoo/drink wine/have too many questions/look weird/smoke/dance/haven't been filled with the Spirit/aren't baptized/swear/have pink hair/are in the wrong ethnic group/have a nose ring/have had an abortion/are gay or lesbian/are too conservative or too liberal]. ~ Mike Yaconelli
Negative experiences repeat as long as they remain useful to you. ~ Tawny Lara
I went through a real punk stage-I had braids, red hair, pink hair, green hair, I cut it into a Mohawk, the lot. Then about five years ago, I dyed it dark and stayed out of the sun to get pale, because I hated looking like everyone else, all blonde hair and tanned skin. ~ Katie McGrath
We were a really crazy band. This was in '73. I had my hair real short with a white stripe down the middle of my head. The guitarists had pink hair. We weren't playing CBGB's either, we were playing Statesborough, Georgia, for cowboys on penny beer night. We used to keep crowbars onstage when fights would break out. Those were really wild times. ~ Rex Smith
I shave my body in all kinds of ways, wear tons of eyeliner and dye my hair pink. ~ Beth Ditto
Shakespeare," she says, the light from the bar glinting off her pink hair, "that girl is not for you."
"She's my soul mate," I tell her.
"Then I am worried about your soul," she says. ~ Cath Crowley
Benji usually tries to match his hair with his underwear, and you know how he had the pink hair for a while well we caught him in a pink thong one day! ~ Joel Madden
She didn't need anyone. At Wheeler, even when she stood out with her pink hair and quilter army-surplus jacket and combat bots, she did this without apology. It was a great irony that the very fact of a relationship with her would diminish her appeal, that the moment she came to love me back and depend on me as much as I depended on her, she would no longer be a truly independent spirit. No way in hell was I going to be the one to take that quality away from her. ~ Jodi Picoult
In the outer realm, settlers didn't care about supple skin or glossy pink hair. Practical skills were the real beauty in those colonies, and for once, she would be stunning. ~ Melissa Landers
I used to have pink hair," I told Seven.
"I used to have a real job," he answered.
"What happened?"
He shrugged. "I dyed my hair pink. What happened to you? ~ Jodi Picoult
Is that permanent?" I ask, reaching out to touch her new pink hair before she slaps my hand away.
"I'm trying something new," she says, undaunted. She points to Barbie's Dream House and says, "We enter through the sky-light in the master bedroom. Here."
Rosie points to the Barbie jeep and says, "Where are we going to get our mobile observation unit?"
"Noah's going to borrow his mom's van," Megan says.
Rosie nods, but Noah just says, "I am?"
"You are," Megan says. ~ Ally Carter
I liked to dye my hair as a teenager. I dyed it a lot of different colours: blue, red, pink. ~ Lorelei Linklater
When I was younger, I had pink underneath my hair, and I got detention. I went to an all-girls school where you wore a uniform, and pink hair was not OK. ~ Gia Coppola
She was small-boned and exquisite, and naked like the rest of them, with nothing on her but a garland of flowers and a pink hair ribbon, frequent props on the sex-kiddie sites. ~ Margaret Atwood
Her pink hair helped her cheerful act - hard to look sad with pink hair - even if her eyes were a little pink, too. ~ Patricia Briggs
I'm grinning like the town idiot. And now is not the time to be grinning like the town idiot, not when I'm buck naked in a room full of showering dudes and my girlfriend is glaring daggers at me. But I'm so happy to see her that I can't control my facial muscles.
My eyes eat up the sight of her. Her gorgeous face. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail with a pink hair thingie. Infuriated green eyes.
She's so damn hot when she's mad at me.
"It's nice to see you too, baby," I answer cheerfully. "How was your break?"
"Don't you baby me. And don't ask about my break because you don't deserve to know about it!" Hannah glowers at me, then shifts her attention to the three hockey players in the neighboring stalls. "For the love of Pete, would you guys just rinse off and skedaddle already? I'm trying to yell at your captain."
I choke back a laugh, which ends up spilling out when my teammates snap to attention like they've been issued a command by a drill sergeant. Showers turn off and towels come out, and a moment later, Hannah and I are alone. ~ Elle Kennedy
As a matter of fact I'd had my hair dyed a marvelous shade of pale red so popular with Parisian tarts that season. ~ Elaine Dundy
It's been really fun to see with each album when I change to see the fans of the show emulate my style and with the first record a lot of the kids in the crowd were wearing neck ties like I was and now you'll see a lot of girls with pink hair. It's cool, it's actually really neat. ~ Avril Lavigne
Eve woke, violently aroused. It was Roarke's hands on her. She knew their texture, their rhythm. Her heart tripped against her ribs, then bounded into her throat as his mouth covered hers. His was greedy, hot, giving her no choice, really no choice at all but to respond in kind. Even as she fumbled for him, those long, clever fingers pierced her, diving into her so that she bowed up into the frenzy of orgasm. His mouth on her breast, sucking, teeth scraping. His elegant hands relentless so that her cries came out in whimpers of shock and gratitude. Another staggering climax to layer thick over the first. Her hands sought purchase in the tangled sheets, but nothing could anchor her. As she flew up again, she gripped him, nails scraping down his back, up to grab handfuls of his hair.
"God!" It was the single coherent word she managed as he plunged into her, so hard, so deep she was amazed she didn't die from the pleasure of it. Her body bucked helplessly, frantically, continued to shudder even after he'd collapsed on her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh and lazily nuzzled her ear. "Sorry to wake you. ~ J.D. Robb
Sunshine, I ... Starla's voice broke off as she entered the room and caught sight of him standing naked in the corner. She eyed him in an odd, detached way, as if he were an interesting piece of furniture.
Talon and modesty were strangers, but the way she stared at him made him damned uncomfortable. In spite of the sunlight, Talon grabbed the pink blanket off the bed and clutched it to his middle.
You know, Sunshine, you need to find a man like that to marry. Someone so well hung that even after three or four kids, he'd still be wall to wall.
Talon gaped.
Sunshine laughed. Starla, you're embarrassing him. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon
If ever a man was too clever for his own good, it was the learned Daor Ranald. A middle-aged scholar with silver-rimmed spectacles and a curly brown mop of hair that refused any efforts at taming, he was always moving, talking, or reading. Often all at once. ~ L.H. Leonard
The memory brought back the timbre of her voice and the tickle of her hair on my chin as I put her to bed that night and the feeling of belonging to someone, mattering to someone, having someone whose first smile in the morning was for you. Someone who slipped their hand into yours when they were scared and trusted you to make them feel better. Someone who knew you, the important things about you, and loved you anyway. ~ Michele Jaffe
He came back to the car, long legs lifting high in the snow, and there was snow in his hair and on his eyelashes and I remembered that I love him. It felt like something breaking with a little pain and spilling warm. ~ Thomas Harris
One day, Oliver and Noah had descended into the kitchen at the usual dinner-hour, to banquet upon a small joint of mutton - a pound and a half of the worst end of the neck - when Charlotte being called out of the way, there ensued a brief interval of time, which Noah Claypole, being hungry and vicious, considered he could not possibly devote to a worthier purpose than aggravating and tantalising young Oliver Twist. Intent upon this innocent amusement, Noah put his feet on the table-cloth; and pulled Oliver's hair; and twitched his ears; and expressed his opinion that he was a 'sneak'; and furthermore announced his intention of coming to see him hanged, whenever that desirable event should take place; and entered upon various topics of petty annoyance, like a malicious and ill-conditioned charity-boy as he was. But, ~ Charles Dickens
And after that until the end, there was no relief from being a girl with chores that she wasn't being paid for, a girl with no new sandals and a friend who wasn't a friend but a mistress, and a family that wasn't but people who owned her and ordered her about, and nothing at all but her pretty breasts and her round bottom and her misbehaving hair to help her feel any different. ~ Ru Freeman
He turned his head, ice crystals caught in his hair. "Agnes. Don't pretend you disagree. This is all there is and you know it. Life, here, in our veins. There is the snow, and the sky, and the stars and the things they tell us, and that's all. Everyone else - they're blind. They don't know if they're living or dead. ~ Hannah Kent
Brittany Ellis," Mrs. Peterson says, pointing to the table behind Colin. I unenthusiastically sit on the stool at my assigned place.
"Alejandro Fuentes," Mrs. Peterson says, pointing to the stool next to me.
Oh my God. Alex . . . my chemistry partner? For my entire senior year! No way, no how, SO not okay. I give Colin a "help me" look as I try to avoid a panic attack. I definitely should have stayed at home. In bed. Under the covers. Forget not being intimidated.
"Call me Alex."
Mrs. Peterson looks up from her class list and regards Alex above the glasses on her nose. ' Alex Fuentes," she says, before changing his name on her list. "Mr. Fuentes, take off that bandanna. I have a zero tolerance policy in my class. No gang-related accessories are allowed to enter this room. Unfortunately, Alex, your reputation precedes you. Dr. Aguirre backs my zero tolerance policy one hundred percent ... do I make myself clear?"
Alex stares her down before sliding the bandanna off his head, exposing raven hair that matches his eyes.
"It's to cover up the lice," Colin mutters to Darlene, but I hear him and Alex does, too.
"Vete a la verga," Alex says to Colin, his hard eyes blazing. "Collate el hocico."
"Whatever, dude," Colin says, then turns around. "He can't even speak English."
"That's enough, Colin. Alex, sit down." Mrs. Peterson eyes the rest of the class. "That goes for the rest of you, as well. I can't control what you do outside of ~ Simone Elkeles
She tried to soothe me, to tell me it didn't matter, that there was no reason to blame myself. But ashamed, and no longer able to control my anguish, I began to sob. There in her arms I cried myself to sleep, and I dreamed of the courtier and the pink-cheeked maiden. But in my dream it was the maiden who held the sword. ~ Daniel Keyes
For reasons he couldn't understand a sadness came over him and it was then he saw the girl standing on the other side of the dirt road, her eyes pools of absolute sorrow, her light brown hair glowing in the splinters of sunlight that forced their way through the trees. ~ Melina Marchetta
What are you doi - " My words are swallowed up as his lips crash down on mine. It isn't a soft kiss - it's intense, furious, in a way I never knew a kiss could be, his lips hard and unforgiving against mine. It's a shut-up-I-hate-you kiss. A you-drive-me-crazy kiss. An if-I-don't-kiss-you-I'll-kill-you kiss. It's a battle - our mouths are opposite fronts, fighting for ground, warring for control. I shove his chest. He bites my lip. I nip his tongue. He tugs my hair. The kiss goes wild as my other arm winds around him, clutching the back of his shirt, my nails raking against the fabric. ~ Julie Johnson
While dragging herself up she had to hang onto the rail. Her twisted progress was that of a cripple. Once on the open deck she felt the solid impact of the black night, and the mobility of the accidental home she was about to leave.
Although Lucette had never died before - no, dived before, Violet - from such a height, in such a disorder of shadows and snaking reflections, she went with hardly a splash through the wave that humped to welcome her. That perfect end was spoiled by her instinctively surfacing in an immediate sweep - instead of surrendering under water to her drugged lassitude as she had planned to do on her last night ashore if it ever did come to this. The silly girl had not rehearsed the technique of suicide as, say, free-fall parachutists do every day in the element of another chapter.
Owing to the tumultuous swell and her not being sure which way to peer through the spray and the darkness and her own tentaclinging hair - t,a,c,l - she could not make out the lights of the liner, an easily imagined many-eyed bulk mightily receding in heartless triumph. Now I've lost my next note.
Got it.
The sky was also heartless and dark, and her body, her head,and particularly those damned thirsty trousers, felt clogged with Oceanus Nox, n,o,x. At every slap and splash of cold wild salt, she heaved with anise-flavored nausea and there was an increasing number, okay, or numbness, in her neck and arms. As she began losing track of herself, she thought i ~ Vladimir Nabokov
Then he removed his spectacles, and everyone in the bar gasped. He took off his hat, and with a violent gesture tore at his whiskers and bandages. For a moment they resisted him. A flash of horrible anticipation passed through the bar. "Oh, my Gard!" said some one. Then off they came. It was worse than anything. Mrs. Hall, standing open-mouthed and horror-struck, shrieked at what she saw, and made for the door of the house. Everyone began to move. They were prepared for scars, disfigurements, tangible horrors, but nothing! The bandages and false hair flew across the passage into the bar, making a hobbledehoy jump to avoid them. Everyone tumbled on everyone else down the steps. For the man who stood there shouting some incoherent explanation, was a solid gesticulating figure up to the coat-collar of him, and then - nothingness, no visible thing at all! ~ H.G.Wells
I'd like to sit there, I said softly to the girl sitting in front of the other mirror. She scampered.
I took over her abandoned make-up and painted my face. Red cheeks, to attract hungry vampyre glances. Black liquid eyeliner and mascara, to draw attention away from my bitter eyes. My silky-thin, raven hair, undone in waves over my bare shoulders. The magenta shade of apple gloss on my lips, to make them plump and inviting. Finally, a strapless golden dress that hugged my hips and not much lower. I stood up, feeling the cold air slide down the bare skin of my back like fingers, and panicked. I couldn't wear something like this! Not without a cardigan! A light dress jacket, at least!
I took a gulp of Amrit's wine and detached myself from the fretting child in my head. Then I strode from the sleeping chambers. ~ Heather Heffner
In the instant Miu touched her hair, Sumire fell in love, like she was crossing a field and bang! a bolt of lightning zapped her right in the head. Something akin to an artistic revelation. ~ Haruki Murakami
Neither rings, bright chains, nor bracelets, perfumes, flowers, nor well-trimmed hair, Grace a man like polished language, th' only jewel he should wear. ~ Bhartrhari
Flakes of white fall thru the trees and onto the road, catching on our clothes and hair. It's a silent fall and it's weird how it makes everything else seem quiet, too, like it's trying to tell you a secret, a terrible, terrible secret. ~ Patrick Ness
I never read a book in my life," she said again. She looked at the volume where it lay by the boulder, at Scott, at the book again. She seemed to be having a great deal of trouble getting used to the idea of a man reading a book. "What do you read books for?"
Now he laughed, and she flared up at him, "You laughing at me?"
"Lord, no, ma'am. It's just that nobody ever asked me that before."
He looked at the still water for a moment, thinking. "Tell you what, suppose you had a friend, he knew a whole lot more than you do. He could tell you things about what people are like all over the world, the way they live, everything. And what folks were like a hundred years ago or even a thousand. He could tell you things that make your hair curl, lose you sleep, or things that make you laugh." He looked up at her swiftly, and away. "Or cry."
He kicked a pebble into the water and watched the sunlight break and break, and heal. "More than that. Suppose you had a friend there waiting for you anytime you wanted him, anyplace. He'd give you all he's got or any part of it, whenever you wanted it. And even more, you could shut him up if you didn't feel like listening. Or if he said something you like, you could get him to say it over a hundred times, and he'd never mind."
He pointed at the book. "And all that you can put in your pocket. ~ Theodore Sturgeon
What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights. ~ Anne Sexton
My hair can get quite dry, so I condition it in olive oil once a week. ~ Jerry Hall
His hair in falling seemed to have stuck to his chin, and had prospered in the new locality, for his beard hung down to his waist. ~ Joseph Conrad
Love," Will repeated with no little wonder as he stood up and looked down at me. He
pushed a strand of curling hair out of my eyes and smiled ruefully. "What's that, huh? How would I ever know it from anything else?"
"Because you know me," I said.
I cupped his face between my hands, enjoying the feel of his cheekbones under my thumbs. I tipped my head up to kiss him again, and his tongue slipped around mine delicately. Vulnerable.
"Then love is freedom," he whispered between kisses. "Because that's what I feel when I'm with you. ~ Nicole French
I was drowning, and I could not recall the last time it had happened so completely. "Voglio fare l'amore con te," he whispered into my hair. "I don't - " "I wanna make love to you. ~ Mary Calmes
Girls are removing pubic hair before fully having it. They would say I feel cleaner, it's for me, but then they'd say if a boy saw pubic hair down there they'd head for the hills. ~ Peggy Orenstein
Sure. What's the worst that could happen."
Twenty minutes later, we had our answer. "I can't frecking believe this."
I cringed. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm bald!" Giguhl continued. "I look like a freak."
"It's not that bad," I said. But it was. Oh, my lord was it bad. I'd never seen an uglier cat in my entire life. ~ Jaye Wells
None of them are real to me." He paused again, placing a hand flat against the door. "You are the only real thing in my life."
Radu gasped with the sheer physical pain the words sent through him. But the sound of his agony was covered by that of the door opening. Mehmed reached in and pulled Lada out to him, and then his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair and he was holding her so tightly, so tightly, and they stumbled back into Lada's room and closed the door.
Radu tripped forward, feet dragging, until he stood outside the room. He wanted to be inside it. He wanted to be the only real thing to Mehmed, just as Mehmed was the only real thing to him.
He wanted -
No, please, no.
Yes.
He wanted Mehmed to look at him the way he had looked at Lada.
He wanted Mehmed to kiss him the way he had kissed Lada.
He wanted to be Lada.
No, he did not. He wanted to be himself, and he wanted Mehmed to love him for being himself. His question, the question of Mehmed, was finally answered, piercing him and leaving him shaking, silent, on the floor.
He did not want this answer. ~ Kiersten White
in my dreams, the sun does
not
blind me.
i leave the house (white converse
laced tight, hair tied with a ribbon)
and my body remains that.
my body
stays
a body.
doesn't become a shadow /
a ghost / a whisper.
my body stays
solid. ~ Darshana Suresh
Long hair is considered bohemian, which may be why I grew it, but I keep it long because I love the way it feels, part cloak, part fan, part mane, part security blanket. ~ Marge Piercy
You don't want him," she said to the pink-haired girl. "He has syphilis."
The girls stared. "Syphilis?"
"Five percent of people in America have it," said Ty helpfully.
"I do not have syphilis," Mark said angrily. "There are no sexually transmitted diseases in Faerieland!"
"Sorry," Jules said. "You know how syphilis is. Attacks the brain. ~ Cassandra Clare
The Brother's hood fell back, and his silvery hair shone out in the dim chamber like starlight. All the air rushed out of Tessa's lungs in a single instant. The Silent Brother was Jem. ~ Cassandra Clare
Alone meant absolutely no one giving me shit, involving me in shit, or generally being a shit. Alone didn't care what you wore or how many days it'd been since you washed your hair or shaved your pits. Alone accepted you exactly how you were. It never lied to me or let you down. For all of these reasons and more, I loved alone. We'd probably wed. ~ Kylie Scott
Jessica
I first met the man I married at a hair salon. I was going out the door; Jep was going in--for a haircut. Seriously. Nowadays, most of the Robertson men don't get haircuts, but Jep did back then. When our paths crossed that day, we said nothing more than "hi" to each other, just one word.
Jep and I both grew up in West Monroe, Louisiana, and he is two years older than I am. We went to different high schools, but because we lived in a close community, we had heard about each other. He knew who I was, and I knew who he was--and I thought he had a cool name. I had heard good things about him, including, "He's a dream." When our paths crossed at the hair salon and we simply said hello, I had no way of knowing the hairdresser would tell Jep all about me as she cut his hair that day. Both of us had gone to her for years, so she knew us pretty well, and she said really nice things about me to Jep. In fact, she takes credit for getting us together! After we were married I found out that when he left the hair salon that day, he went home and told his best friend, "I just met the girl I'm going to marry."
"What's her name?" his friend asked.
"Jessica," Jep responded. He only knew this because the hairdresser had told him.
"Jessica who?" his friend asked. "What's her last name?"
"I don't know," Jep admitted.
I love the fact that Jep knew he would marry me after only seeing me once. Maybe he did not know my last name, but the next time he ~ Jessica Robertson
By making our people in the Western Hemisphere hate Africa, we ended up hating ourselves. We hated our African characteristics. We hated our African identity. We hated our African features. So much so that you would find those of us in the West who would hate the shape of our nose. We would hate the shape of our lips. We would hate the color of our skin and the texture of our hair. This was a reaction, but we didn't realize that it was a reaction. ~ Malcolm X
Life kinda sucks, doesn't it?" I asked against Foster's neck. He laughed into my hair. "It kinda doesn't sometimes, too. ~ R.K. Ryals