Posner Hair Quotes

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out of time.

When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
I had always loved you more.
You freed your braids...
gave your hair to the breeze.
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.

You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares into dreams...
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.

I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
of time. ~ Maya Angelou

My goodness, my hair's been talked about by a million people, you know? It sort of goes with the territory. ~ Carly Fiorina

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

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

One year, I was a go-go girl for Halloween, and I got all this glitter eye shadow, my hair was poufy with braids, I was wearing all these different colors and fake eyelashes that went all the way up to my eyebrows. I totally enjoy the whole Halloween feel. ~ Olivia Holt

She threw back her head, riding him hard, the sweat sliding down between her breasts. He lurched up, half sitting, his arm propping him up, and licked the sweat from her body.
She cried out, gasping, holding his head to her even as he sucked one nipple into his mouth. She felt the pull, felt the answering gush, and knew she was falling apart, spreading outward, a star exploding.
He gasped and let go of her breast, bowing his head to her chest, his hair wild and tangled against her as he groaned and shook.
She felt heat inside her and rose one last time, spreading wide her thighs, shoving him as deep inside her as she could.
Trying to keep him forever. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The kiss began much the same as usual
Edward was as careful as ever, and my heart began to overreact like it always did. And then something seemed to change. Suddenly his lips became much more urgent, his free hand twisted into my hair and held my face securely to his. And though I was clearly beginning to cross his cautious lines, for once he didn't stop me. His body was cold through the thin quilt, but I crushed myself against him eagerly. ~ Stephenie Meyer

Try as we will to take the "cure" of ineffectuality; to meditate on the Taoist fathers' doctrine of submission, of withdrawal, of a sovereign absence; to follow, like them, the course of consciousness once it ceases to be at grips with the world and weds the form of things as water does, their favorite element - we shall never succeed. They scorn both our curiosity and our thirst for suffering; in which they differ from the mystics, and especially from the medieval ones, so apt to recommend the virtues of the hair shirt, the scourge, insomnia, inanition, and lament.
"A life of intensity is contrary to the Tao," teaches Lao Tse, a normal man if ever there was one. But the Christian virus torments us: heirs of the flagellants, it is by refining our excruciations that we become conscious of ourselves. Is religion declining? We perpetuate its extravagances, as we perpetuate the macerations and the cell-shrieks of old, our will to suffer equaling that of the monasteries in their heyday. If the Church no longer enjoys a monopoly on hell, it has nonetheless riveted us to a chain of sighs, to the cult of the ordeal, of blasted joys and jubilant despair.
The mind, as well as the body, pays for "a life of intensity." Masters in the art of thinking against oneself, Nietzsche, Baudelaire, and Dostoevsky have taught us to side with our dangers, to broaden the sphere of our diseases, to acquire existence by division from our being. And what for the great Chinaman was a symbol o ~ Emil M. Cioran

You've never heard of bagpipes?" Cody asked, sounding aghast. "They're as Scottish as kilts and red armpit hair!"
"Um . . . yuck?" I said.
"That's it." Cody said. "Steelheart has to fall so we can get back to educating children properly. This is an offense against the dignity of my motherland."
"Great," Prof said. "I'm glad we now have proper motivation. ~ Brandon Sanderson

There is something else I must confess about Tata Boanda: he's a sinner. Right in the plain sight of God he has two wives, a young and an old one. Why, they all come to church! Father says we're to pray for all three of them, but when you get down to the particulars it's hard to know exactly what outcome to pray for. He should drop one wife, I guess, but for sure he'd drop the older one, and she already looks sad enough as it is. The younger one has all the kids, and you can't just pray for a daddy to flat-out dump his babies, can you? I always believed any sin was easily rectified if only you let Jesus Christ into your heart, but here it gets complicated.

Mama Boanda Number Two doesn't seem fazed by her situation. In fact, she looks like she's fixing to explode with satisfaction. She and her little girls all wear their hair in short spikes bursting out all over their heads, giving an effect similar to a pincushion (Rachel calls it the "haywire hairdo.") And Mama Boanda always wraps her pagne just so, with a huge pink starburst radiating across her wide rump. The women's long cloth skirts are printed so gaily with the oddest things: there is no telling when a raft of yellow umbrellas, or the calico cat and gingham dog, or an upside-down image of the Catholic Pope might just go sauntering across our yard. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

There's no grandfatherly fondness in me,
There are no gray hairs in my soul!
Shaking the world with my voice and grinning,
I pass you by, - handsome,
Twentytwoyearold. ~ Vladimir Mayakovsky

I don't feel like me unless I have my hair shaved. So even when I'm an old lady, I'm going to have it. ~ Sinead O'Connor

That was ... oh, God, Joe. That was ... I honestly didn't know what the fuss was all about. God. We can do that again, right? Please tell me we can do that again!" Joe's lips curved up into a slow smile. "Give me fifteen minutes and a washcloth and we can probably do it again tonight. Good enough for you?" Casey smiled back, unbelievably sexy in the dark of the room. "Yeah, old man - I'll be impressed as hell if that's all it takes. But I wouldn't object." Joe pushed Casey's sweaty hair from his eyes. "I love you, kid. There's not much I wouldn't do to make you happy." Casey's grin turned serious. "I love you too, Joe. You know that, right?" "I do," Joe said softly. "I do. And I believe it with everything, or we wouldn't be here." The grin returned, but it was luminous and brighter this time. "Good. ~ Amy Lane

I'm going to be okay." His eyes held mine as he stepped closer lining his booted feet with mine."Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise."
"You can't make that promise," I whispered, searching his gaze intently."None of us can."
His hands slid back and he curled his fingers in my loose hair. "I can. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

She received fine silk gloves and music boxes and even a curled lock of prickly white hair tied with a red velvet ribbon. That particularly appalling gift had even come with a poem:

Roses are red, violets are blue,
I would even trim my mustache for you!

She had memorized the short stanza against her will and the words had nauseated her on multiple occasions since. ~ Marissa Meyer

IRWIN: At the time of the Reformation there were fourteen foreskins of Christ preserved, but it was thought that the church of St John Lateran in Rome had the authentic prepuce.
DAKIN: Don't think we're shocked by your mention of the word 'foreskin', sir.
CROWTHER: No, sir. Some of us even have them.
LOCKWOOD: Not Posner, though, sir. Posner's like, you know, Jewish.
It's one of several things Posner doesn't have.
(Posner mouths 'fuck off.') ~ Alan Bennett

It was a long head.

It was a wedge, a sliver, a grotesque slice in which it seemed the features had been forced to stake their claims, and it appeared that they had done so in a great hurry and with no attempt to form any kind of symmetrical pattern for their mutual advantage. The nose had evidently been first upon the scene and had spread itself down the entire length of the wedge, beginning among the grey stubble of the hair and ending among the grey stubble of the beard, and spreading on both sides with a ruthless disregard for the eyes and mouth which found precarious purchase. The mouth was forced by the lie of the terrain left to it, to slant at an angle which gave to its right-hand side an expression of grim amusement and to its left, which dipped downwards across the chin, a remorseless twist. It was forced by not only the unfriendly monopoly of the nose, but also by the tapering character of the head to be a short mouth; but it obvious by its very nature that, under normal conditions, it would have covered twice the area. The eyes in whose expression might be read the unending grudge they bore against the nose were as small as marbles and peered out between the grey grass of the hair.
This head, set at a long incline upon a neck as wry as a turtle's cut across the narrow vertical black strip of the window.
Steerpike watched it turn upon the neck slowly. It would not have surprised him if it had dropped off, so toylike was its angle.
As he wa ~ Mervyn Peake

It seemed to be a law of society that hair must be parted and brushed. ~ Kate Chopin

A single twist of white-blonde hair blew across her face and stuck to her half-frozen lips. When she noticed me, the edges of her eyes crinkled as though she were smiling, as if she had been waiting. ~ Julia Ember

You're covered in blood too," Cristina murmured to Emma, shrugging off her own jacket. She slung it around Emma's shoulders, covering her bloody tank. She brushed her hands through Emma's hair, looking at her worriedly. "You sure you're not hurt?"
"Julian's blood," Emma whispered, and Cristina made a murmuring noise and pulled Emma into a hug. She patted Emma's back and Emma hung on to her for dear life and decided there and then that if anyone ever tried to hurt Cristina she would grind them to a pulp and make amusing sand castles out of the remains. ~ Cassandra Clare

It seemed to Julian that there was far too much hair in his wig. ~ Stendhal

Jacin said nothing else. Neither did she. After the first ring was completed, she leaned her head against his thigh, making herself more comfortable as she picked out a sunburst orange. Overhead, Jacin sighed, and she felt the faintest brush of fingertips against her hair. A hint, a suggestion of togetherness, before he became a statue once more. ~ Marissa Meyer

Zane was waiting for her at the base of the stairs. She stopped on the last step so that when he turned toward her, they were eye to eye.
"I'm sorry I didn't bring anything dressier," she said. She'd changed into white jeans and a pale, dusty purple top with an embellished scoop neckline.
His gaze traveled to her feet and back to her face. She thought maybe she read masculine appreciation in his raised brows.
"You're fine," he said.
So much for any appreciation. On his part, at least. "Give me a moment while I bask in the glory," she murmured and stepped past him to the front porch and then down toward his truck.
Zane got there ahead of her. A neat trick explained by his much longer stride. He towered over her. He'd changed clothes, too, into dark blue jeans and a fitted white T-shirt that showcased his hard-earned muscles. His dark hair was still damp. An image flashed through her mind of him in the shower, water running over his broad shoulders.
He opened the door for her, then helped her into the truck. The masculine scent of his soap and shampoo wafted toward her as he climbed in beside her, making her limbs melt into the leather seat.
This felt like a date. It wasn't, but still. Phoebe sighed. Maya had promised her a distraction, and Zane was certainly that. Too bad he didn't seem to like her one bit. ~ Susan Mallery

You will meet plenty of people who are pretty but haven't yet learned how to be beautiful. They will have the right look for the times but they will not glow. Beautiful women glow. When you are with a beautiful women you might not notice her hair or skin or body or clothes, because you'll be distracted by the way she makes you feel. She will be so full of beauty that you will feel some of it overflow onto you. You'll feel warm and safe and curious around her. Her eyes will twinkle a little and she'll look at you really closely, because beautiful wise women know that the quickest way to fill up with beauty is to soak in another human being. Women who are concerned with being pretty think about what they look like, but women who are concerned with being beautiful think about what they're looking at. ~ Glennon Doyle Melton

The soundtrack should be a lilting indie affair; equal parts hopeful and with a broken, bittersweet lyric hook that makes your heart hurt for some unknown reason. But instead it's scored by the 1980s hair metal I found in an incriminating iPod playlist titledGym.

"You seriously got those abs while listening to Poison and Bon Jovi," I crow, and he can't deny it. It's just us, windows down, stereo cranked, the road curling in front of us like a tongue. ~ Sally Thorne

So I stand up and face the officer, daring her to look away from my smooth brown skin, the dark rings of my nipples, the swell of my belly, the thatch of hair between my legs. She hands me the orange scrubs that are designed to conform me, and the ID tag with my inmate number, meant to define me as part of a group, instead of an individual. I stare at her until she meets my eye. "My name," I say, "is Ruth." - ~ Jodi Picoult

You like to watch?" The girl asked. "Or do you want to join us?"
"I…uh…" Oh, this wasn't hot anymore. This was just awkward, and I was so totally out of place with my flannel shirt and my socks and my hair back in a bun.
I was wearing fucking glasses. Who wears glasses to your neighbor's orgy? ~ Molly O'Keefe

Because you came into life
Because I liked to get your sight
Because we were awake on the hill that night
Because we roamed sitting side by side
Because you slept on shoulder for a while
Because you talked like a child
Because you made me smile
Because of your coffee bites
Because your aroma made me fly
Because we shared in nights
Because I read you line by line
Because we sang old times
Because we became crazy minds
Because we cried
Because we poured our heart out – couldn't hide.
Because we drank and got high
Because you looked me that way that night
Because you caressed my hair – love thrived
Because we walked hand in hand for miles
Because you hold me tight before sunrise
Because you gave me reason to live life

Because you left me to survive
Because I am just alive
~Emptiness~ ~ Ravikant Mahto

If I bottled ginger ale, it'd be made from the finest red hair available. ~ Jarod Kintz

When I'm not working, I want to be the version of the person that I was born to be. I was born with curly hair. It fits my personality, and it's totally who I am. I am rough around the edges, and I am not a polished girl. ~ Erin Wasson

I'm known for long colorful locs but I still don't take my hair too seriously. Changing it helps express who I am. ~ Ledisi

There lived a redheaded man who had no eyes or ears. He didn't have hair either, so he was called a redhead arbitrarily. He couldn't talk because he had no mouth. He had no nose either. He didn't even have arms or legs. He had no stomach, he had no back, he had no spine, and he had no innards at all. He didn't have anything. So we don't even know who we're talking about. It's better that we don't talk about him any more. ~ Daniil Kharms

The proprietor had hair so red that pigmentation had flowed out into every visible inch of his skin and even into the pinks of his eyes, as the colour of flowering cherry trees stains their leaves. ~ Quentin Crisp

crowded about the four sides of the green to watch and cheer. Viola had set out from home early in the morning looking ladylike and elegant in a muslin dress and shawl and straw bonnet, her hair in a neatly braided coronet about her head beneath it. She had even been wearing gloves. But she had long ago discarded all the accessories. Even her hair, slipping stubbornly out of its pins during the busy morning of rushing hither and yon, had been allowed finally to hang loose in a long braid down ~ Mary Balogh

You know," a low voice drawls as a warm hand squeezes my shoulder. "There's time to feed the kitty before we get dressed for the big day." He's so near that parts of me tingle even in my outrage. "Blake," I say, my voice almost a whisper. "Yes," he breathes beside my ear. "I don't have a cat." He lets out a sexy rumble, his thumb trailing down my arm. And it's then that I realize feed the kitty means… "We aren't feeding the kitty or hiding the salami or anything else you can think of to call it. We're just not. There will be no repeats this weekend." He reaches beneath my wet hair and cups the back of my head, his long fingers trailing across my skull. Goosebumps break out all over my body. "Never say never, J-Babe. ~ Sarina Bowen

There was blood, so much blood that it painted his face and stained his hair. There was blood, so much blood that several moments passed before I recognized my father. ~ Jodi Picoult

There's a reason they call childbirth labor. Making a healthy baby takes effort: It requires foresight and self-denial and courage. It's expensive and demanding and tiring. You have to learn new things, change many habits, possibly deal with complicated medical situations, make difficult decisions, and undergo stressful ordeals. I had a wisdom tooth pulled without Novocaine while I was pregnant - it hurt a lot and seemed to go on forever. The kindness of the very young dental assistant, holding back my hair as I spat blood into a bowl, will stay with me for the rest of my life. Pregnant women do such things, and much harder things, all the time. For example, they give birth, which is somewhere on the scale between painful and excruciating. Or they have a cesarean, as I did, which is major surgery. None of this is without risk of death or damage or trauma, including psychological trauma. To force girls and women to undergo all this against their will is to annihilate their humanity. When they undertake it by choice, we should all be grateful. ~ Katha Pollitt

I wanted to say that I was sorry, but not for the obvious. I was sorry that I had turned out to be such a big disappointment. Sorry that I couldn't make things better. Sorry that everything I touched turned to crap. Seeing Mom cry had torn me up. Until finally she said something.
"What happened to your hair? Did you do that?"
At that moment, I hated Britney Spears. ~ Jordan Dane

I looked at her moonskin face her pansy eyes and her cobweb hair and I knew I would go on giving her one last chance for ever. ~ Glenda Millard

I reach up and flick the hair hanging across his forehead. ~ Colleen Hoover

Everything drifts. Everything is slowly swirling, philosophies tangled with the grocery lists, unreal-real anxieties like rose thorns waiting to tear the uncertain flesh, nonentities of thoughts floating like plankton, green and orange particles, seaweed
lots of that, dark purple and waving, sharks with fins like cutlasses, herself held underwater by her hair, snared around auburn-rusted anchor chains. ~ Margaret Laurence

How well do you take care of your appearance? Do you walk around the house with your hair uncombed and wear unkempt clothes? How well do you take care of your health? Your stress? Do you go to pieces, have an extra drink, start screaming and yelling when the pressures of family, work and parenting get to be too much? Or can you hold it together, take a nap, go for a walk, kiss your husband, practice yoga, exercise, or make a joke? How well do you take care of your spirituality? Your intellectual growth? Your interests? How do they affect your child? you do to nourish the images that are most important to you? ~ Michele Borba

What is perfect is the way she looks at me, and the way she says my name. The way her hand strokes my hair, though I don't think she knows she's doing it. The way we lay together night after night. The way I feel: complete. What is perfect is the way she sometimes smiles and she sometimes laughs. The way we can say anything that comes to mind, or sit together for hours in absolute silence. ~ Mary Kubica

Usually, when he came in these dreams he woke up still thrusting into ruined sheets, his face pressed into a pillow.
This time, he was most assuredly still balls deep inside Delilah McGavin, his face pressed into the mass of silken black hair now that they'd fallen to their sides on a bed far too nice to be his. Like him, she was gasping, trying to catch her breath. She was also bonelessly limp, her sweat slick body slathered over his, their legs tangled, their sexes still throbbing against each other, fitted together like a lock and a key. ~ Dee Tenorio

Bonnie Rae, you've got a visitor downstairs. And if you don't show your face right away, he's going to kill me. And it won't be a quick death. It will be a mauling. Do you understand?"
"Huh?"
"Bear's here, and he's loaded for . . . well, bear."
"Bear's here?" she shot straight up in bed, immediately awake, and made for the door, bare legs flying, oversized T-shirt slipping off her slim shoulders.
"Bonnie!" She halted and turned in question. "If you want me to live, pull on some pants and do something with your hair. Please. ~ Amy Harmon