Zaynes Hair Quotes

I've been embracing gray hair since ... high school, and I don't think that anything's changed since then. ~ Taylor Hicks

Lost love is still love, Eddie. It just takes a different form, that's all. You can't hold their hand... You can't tousle their hair... But when those senses weaken another one comes to life... Memory... Memory becomes your partner. You hold it... you dance with it... Life has to end, Eddie... Love doesn't. ~ Mitch Albom

Hot." The last word, barely a whisper, lost itself in my hair as he pressed his lips to that spot just below my ear that can, apparently, flip the off switch in my brain. Before I realized it my hands were inside that jacket, stroking the hard planes of his chest and stomach. And then, as if moving without any prompting from me they reached down, undid his belt, pulled it loose, and…"Ahhh, that feels great," I moaned."I am completely grossed out over here!" Cassandra informed us.Vayl, who'd been peering down at me with an expression of utter disbelief, stared at Cassandra over the top of my head. "It is not what you think," he assured her."As if I'd do something that disgusting," I said, pulling away from him, but keeping the belt, because the buckle relieved the itching so much better than fingernails. I continued using it to scratch the inflamed skin across my stomach as I sat down by Cassandra.
"You are pathetic," she told me.
"I'd get all offended, but I'm pretty sure you're right. ~ Jennifer Rardin

Having red hair is never good when you're a kid. I was picked on a lot and didn't have a lot of friends. But I think that gave me a thick skin and helped make me a better person. ~ Jesse Tyler Ferguson

Luck is a fickle girl who doesn't like lingering in any one place; she strokes your hair back from your brow, kisses you quickly and flits away. Lady Misfortune, by contrast, presses you tightly to her loving heart; she says she's not in a hurry, sits down beside your bed and knits. ~ Heine

I'm into the true meaning of Christmas - Faith, Family, and Facial hair. ~ Jase Robertson

Kai held up the broken portscreen. "What would Cinder do? How would she fix it?"
A crease formed across Torin's brow. "You want to comm for help?"
"Sort of." He buried a hand in his hair, thinking, thinking. He pictured Cinder at her booth at the market. She would have known what to do. She would have -
He hopped to his feet, his pulse racing, and whapped the corner of the portscreen hard on the top of the altar. Torin jerked back.
Kai looked again and let out an excited whoop. Half the screen had cleared.
He opened a comm.
"How did you do that?" said Torin.
"I don't know," he said, typing in a hasty message, "but you'd be surprised how often that works. ~ Marissa Meyer

From the small of her back, up to her shoulder blades, a delicate yet extravagant piece created, no doubt, by one of the monks at one of the temples. These images were supposed to warn away evil spirits, and he thought for a moment, that perhaps she considered him potentially evil. Tigers danced, dragons spun, spirits half human, half demon climbed across her reaching up to the palace where a wizard with four arms and long cascades of hair stood before a castle atop a mountain, smoke rose from crematoriums inside the castle. An imagined lost city, an astonishing universe... ~ James A. Newman

And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing. I closed my eyes, and the
world around me faded. The noise, the smoke . . . it was gone. All that mattered
was the taste of his mouth, a mix of cloves and mints. There was a fierceness in his kiss, a desperation . . . and I answered, just as hungry for him. I didn't stop
him when he pulled me closer, so that I almost sat on his lap. I'd never been
wrapped around someone's body like that, and I was shocked at how eagerly
mine responded. His arm went around my waist, pulling me onto him further,
and his other hand slid up the back of my neck, getting entangled in my hair.
Amazingly, the wig stayed on. He took his lips away from my mouth, gently
trailing kisses down to my neck. I tipped my head back, gasping when the
intensity returned to his mouth. There was an animalistic quality that sent shock
waves through the rest of my body. Some Alchemist voice warned me that this
was exactly how a vampire would feed, but I had no fear. Adrian wouldn't hurt
me, and I needed to know just how hard he could kiss me and -
"Oh my God!"
Adrian and I jerked apart as though someone had thrown cold water on us,
though our legs stayed entangled. ~ Richelle Mead

surfing, writing, composing, and programming deep into the night, like it's the early 1980s with the hue of poison-green CRT illuminating the room, Nike running shoes on the floor, hair metal poster on the door, and everything is infinite, made of fibre optics and floppy disks . . . ~ Mike Walker

Astrid Dane. . . Her long colorless hair was woven back into a braid, and her porcelain skin bled straight into the edges of her tunic. Her entire outfit was fitted to her like armor; the collar of her shirt was high and rigid, guarding her throat, and the tunic itself ran from chin to wrist to waist, less out of a sense of modesty, Kell was sure, than protection. Below a gleaming silver belt, she wore fitted pants that tapered into tall boots (rumor had it that a man once spat at her for refusing to wear a dress; she'd cut off his lips). The only bits of color were the pale blue of her eyes and the greens and reds of the talismans that hung from her neck and wrists and were threaded through her hair. . .
"I smell something sweet," she said. She'd been gazing up at the ceiling. Now her eyes wandered
down and landed on Kell. "Hello, flower boy. ~ V.E Schwab

Anger is always reserved for someone else. And yet, I've been in a room with a woman who escaped a war, who lost her father in ethnic cleansing, whose mother burned her hair, whose cousin raped her. "What right do I have to be angry, when I'm alive? she said.

Anger is a privilege of the truly broken, and yet I've never met a woman who was broken enough that she allowed herself to be angry. An angry woman must answer for herself. The reasons for her anger must be picked over, examined, and debated. My anger must stand the scrutiny of the court of law, of evidentiary procedures. I must prove it comes from somewhere justified and not just because one time some man touched my sister. Or because one time some man touched some woman and will continue on and on. ~ Roxane Gay

I feel very very old. My hair hurts. I have buttocks all over my body and I can't even smoke properly any more. I don't have lungs, I just have two poppadoms in here. ~ Dylan Moran

My mother was a beauty queen in her hey day. That's where I learnt a little about makeup and hair ... I had never picked up or even seen a 'Vogue' before I was 17. I had no idea about fashion, magazines, models or designers. No idea. ~ Kylie Bax

She just did not want to be a revolutionary. The revolution made her ugly. It covered her. She had pretty hair that she had to hide. She had pretty legs that she had to cover up. ~ Moniro Ravanipour

I always thought it would be a simple matter to lie wi' a woman, he said softly. And yet ... I want to fall on my face at your feet and worship you"-he dropped the towel and reached out, taking me by the shoulders-"and still I want to force ye to your knees before me, and hold ye there wi' me hands tangled in your hair, and your mouth at my service ... and I want both things at the same time, Sassenach. ~ Diana Gabaldon

And you're about to pay for that, baby." Furi spun Syn around and pushed his chest against the door. "Furious," Syn groaned when he felt his sweater being roughly yanked over his head. Furi's hand pressed hard into the center of his back, keeping him pinned against the front door. "Yes, punish me." Syn froze when Furi's assault on his body stopped immediately after he said that. Oh no. Furi's hair was brushing against Syn's face as he leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You ever been handcuffed, Sergeant? Restrained." Syn shivered, his cock leaking in his tight jeans. "Oh fuck." "Don't ~ A.E. Via

Your hair is like butterflies," Sebastian said, giggling like a child.
"That's nice," Firen said impatiently. "Keep moving."
"Fantastic. I always like my days better with a touch of insanity," Gabriella quipped. ~ Laura Kreitzer

Nadya Zelenin and her mother had returned from a performance of Eugene Onegin at the theatre. Going into her room, the girl swiftly threw off her dress and let her hair down. Then she quickly sat at the table in her petticoat and white bodice to write a letter like Tatyana's.
'I love you,' she wrote, 'but you don't love me, you don't love me!'
Having written this, she laughed.
She was only sixteen and had never loved anyone yet. She knew that Gorny (an army officer) and Gruzdyov (a student) were both in love with her, but now, after the opera, she wanted to doubt their love. To be unloved and miserable: what an attractive idea! There was something beautiful, touching and romantic about A loving B when B wasn't interested in A. Onegin was attractive in not loving at all, while Tatyana was enchanting because she loved greatly. Had they loved equally and been happy they might have seemed boring.
("After The Theatre") ~ Anton Chekhov

I want to kiss every inch of you," he murmured and ground his cock against her mound. "Then I want to lick every inch. And touch. Then suck. Then fuck." He gave her hair a hard tug. "Every inch. ~ Olivia Cunning

Once upon a time it was not safe to be born a girl. It is important to remember that time does not exist. Once upon a time, all of time, it was not safe to be a girl. Lecherous men would disguise themselves as kittens left for dead by their mothers so that little girls would pick them up and kiss their eyes into vision and then the kittens would grow and grow until they were bigger and fiercer than lions and they would eat the girls in one bite, bones and skin and hair and all. Once upon a time it was not safe to be born a girl because either you were the kitten abandoned in a dumpster or you were devoured by it. Once upon a time it was not safe to be a girl because girls have fires inside of them and men who are cold cling to their warmth until they leech it from the bones of women and then burn them to death with their own matches. ~ Erin Emily Ann Vance

Of course, once I'd wrapped my mind around the fact that it was Cal and not Archer standing in my bedroom, it dawned on me that Cal was standing in my bedroom.
"Hey," I breathed, hoping my hair wasn't a huge tangled mess, even though I was ninety-nine percent sure that it was. I mean, I could see it out of my peripheral vision.
"Hey."
"You're,um,in my room."
"I am."
"Is that allowed?"
"Well,we are engaged," Cal deadpanned.
I squinted at him, shoving big handfuls of my hair away from my face. I had no idea if that was supposed to be a joke or not. You could never tell with Cal.
"Did you want to watch me sleep or something? Because if that's the case, this engagement is so broken."
Cal's lips quirked in what might have been a smile. "Do you have a smart-ass reply for everything?
"If at all possible,yeah. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Every part of her was still except her hair, which blew round her face in the damp night like Medusa's serpentine locks rearing to strike. ~ Katherine Pine

I think that everyone wants sexy hair, and when they think of sexy hair they think of volume - they don't think about flat, limp, lifeless hair. But for some women, it's hard to achieve because we're constantly buying these volumizing shampoos [that] leave a residue in your hair ... ~ Chrissy Teigen

He walked back into the living room, looking again at the illuminated photo of the man with the brown beard and long hair.
"Who's that, a friend of yours?"
Mr. Sweety glanced over. He said, "This picture here?" and sounded surprised. "It's Jesus. Who you think it was?"
"It's a photograph," Raymond said.
Mr. Sweety said, "Yeah, it's a good likeness, ain't it? ~ Elmore Leonard

Oh, come on. Haven't you seen him?" Eleanor exclaimed.
It's because he's tall, isn't it? Tall and has long hair." Even Nathaniel's crude description made me want to see Dante again. Unfortunately, he never came to dinner, probably because he lived off campus.
"He's really smart," I murmured.
"And confident," Eleanor added.
"It's like he's older than everyone else," I said "Like he knows what he want and isn't afraid of taking it."
"What she's saying is that he's manly." Eleanor grinned. ~ Yvonne Woon

We should celebrate how amazing our bodies are! We all have things that we like and dislike about our bodies, but we need to focus on what we love - maybe it's a great smile, strong legs or curly hair? ~ Katherine Schwarzenegger

Love the ponytail," Connor says, pointing at his hair.
Lev shrugs. "It's just because my hair is so tatted. But maybe I'll keep it."
"Don't," Connor tells him. "I lied. I hate it. ~ Neal Shusterman

He said, I won't have one of those things in the house. It gives a young girl a false notion of beauty, not to mention anatomy. If a real woman was built like that she'd fall on her face.

She said, If we don't let her have one like all the other girls she'll feel singled out. It'll become an issue. She'll long for one and she'll long to turn into one. Repression breeds sublimation. You know that.

He said, It's not just the pointy plastic tits, it's the wardrobes. The wardrobes and that stupid male doll, what's his name, the one with the underwear glued on.

She said, Better to get it over with when she's young. He said, All right but don't let me see it.

She came whizzing down the stairs, thrown like a dart. She was stark naked. Her hair had been chopped off, her head was turned back to front, she was missing some toes and she'd been tattooed all over her body with purple ink, in a scrollwork design. She hit the potted azalea, trembled there for a moment like a botched angel, and fell.

He said, I guess we're safe. ~ Margaret Atwood

If you look at me close enough, there's a small resemblance to a chicken nugget. I don't know if it's my skin texture or my hair, but the resemblance is definitely there. ~ Kevin Hart

The year was 1987, but it might as well have been the Summer of Love: I was twenty, had hair down to my shoulders, and was dressed like an Indian rickshaw driver. For those charged with enforcing our nation's drug laws, it would have been only prudent to subject my luggage to special scrutiny. Happily, I had nothing to hide. "Where are you coming from?" the officer asked, glancing skeptically at my backpack. "India, Nepal, Thailand…" I said. "Did you take any drugs while you were over there?" As it happens, I had. The temptation to lie was obvious - why speak to a customs officer about my recent drug use? But there was no real reason not to tell the truth, apart from the risk that it would lead to an even more thorough search of my luggage (and perhaps of my person) than had already commenced. "Yes," I said. The officer stopped searching my bag and looked up. "Which drugs did you take? "I smoked pot a few times… And I tried opium in India." "Opium?" "Yes." "Opium or heroin? "It was opium." "You don't hear much about opium these days." "I know. It was the first time I'd ever tried it." "Are you carrying any drugs with you now?" "No." The officer eyed me warily for a moment and then returned to searching my bag. Given the nature of our conversation, I reconciled myself to being there for a very long time. I was, therefore, as patient as a tree. Which was a good thing, because the officer was now examining my belongings as though any one item - a toothbrush, a book, a flashlight ~ Sam Harris

He was so jealous of that boy yesterday, the one with the chest like Charlton Heston in Ben-Hur. He wanted everything he had, that body, that girl, that car, that freedom, that way of thinking. That hair, that bloody hair. What he would give to have hair that moved so freely in the wind. But shouldn't that boy be jealous of Karl? Shouldn't he wonder what Karl had seen and done? Shouldn't he look at Karl and think, If only I get to lead a life like yours? ~ Brooke Davis

Order to find them at the bottom of the box, Rodolphe disturbed all the others, and mechanically began rummaging amidst this mass of papers and things, finding pell-mell bouquets, garters, a black mask, pins, and hair - hair! dark and fair, some even, catching in the hinges of the box, broke when it was opened. Thus dallying with his souvenirs, he examined the writing and the style of the letters, as varied as their orthography. They were tender or jovial, facetious, melancholy; there were some that asked for love, others that asked for money. A word recalled faces to him, certain gestures, the sound of a voice; sometimes, however, he remembered nothing at all. ~ Gustave Flaubert

There's April in her hair. Motion and stillness. Wings and earth. There are tears, and there is ... friendship. There is velvet, and traveling, and distance, bones and blood, summer coming again as it always does, love. ~ Laura Kasischke

Are you going to cut my throat?" Mark asked.
I'm going to cur your hair. Hold still," Christina said.
"As my lady requests. ~ Cassandra Clare

But the main thing I had to do in 1928 was watch my step. Play along with the farce. Brush my teeth. Comb my hair. At all costs, stifle my natural hideous laughter. ~ J.D. Salinger

I remember last time I played Nocturnal Wonderland I dropped that 'Move 4 First Aid' mashup and people ripping their hair out ... crazy night. ~ Kaskade

But then a revelation came crashing down on me. The harshness of it was so fierce I was the one trembling instead of Melanie. My memory flashed back to her Monday night in the parking lot with her messed up hair and smeared makeup. They weren't willingly hitting it in his office. He hadn't turned me away that night because he had been with someone.

Oh, no, it was much worse than that.

I stared at her in disbelief. He had screwed her - the panties were proof of that. But it wasn't by her consent…he had truly raped her.

I gasped. "Oh my God!" My mind shattered with the thoughts of what he had done. To his star…to his son's girlfriend. It was too much. I slammed back against the sink and shook my head. "He raped you, didn't he?"

Her eyes widened in horror. "NO!" she screamed. ~ Katie Ashley

I'd rather wear jewels in my hair than anywhere else. The face should have the advantage of this brilliance. ~ Hedy Lamarr

Everything you do or say interests me."
"Really," she said skeptically. "What about Lord Westcliff's claim that I'm shallow and self-absorbed?"
As she faced him, Simon braced one hand on the wall near her head and leaned over her protectively. His voice was very soft. "He doesn't know you."
"And you do?"
"Yes, I know you." He reached out to finger a tendril of damp hair that clung to her neck. "You guard yourself carefully. You don't like to depend on anyone. You're determined and strong-willed, and you're decided in your opinions. Not to mention stubborn. But never self-absorbed. And anyone with your intelligence could never be called shallow. ~ Lisa Kleypas

What did ye talk about with the ladies?"
"Lots of things," she replied " The Three step rule, oral sex-"
"Holy Christ Almighty" He pressed a hand to his brow. "They were supposed to teach you how to shampoo yer hair, no' give you instructions on oral sex! ~ Kerrelyn Sparks