Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I thought Id be edgy and dye my hair red. And I dyed my hair, like, Jessica Rabbit red. It kind of allowed me to have this whole new confidence and this whole new swagger and this whole new sense of self. It kind of brought out the inner rock star in me. I had never dyed my hair like that, and no one forgot me after that.
You know, I just tend to grow my beard out for 'Parks and Rec.' As an actor it's always easier to shave or cut your hair for a role, but it's hard to put fake hair on or grow hair for a role. When you look at pictures of me, the longer my hair is, the longer my facial hair is, that's just the longer I haven't gotten a job.
Two years gives you enough time to grow and to change, and to, you know, change your priorities. Change where you live, change your hair, change what you believe in, change who you hang out with, what’s influencing you, what’s inspiring you. And in the process of all of those changes in the last two years, my music changed.
I wanted Bow's hair and makeup and clothing to look like a woman who has four children, a career, and a full life. For example, she won't wear eyeshadow unless she's going out. Because it takes a lot of time to put eyeshadow on. She's a woman who has style, but it's all about functionality - she grabs stuff from her closet.
There's always someone out there telling you your nose is too big or too small, or you're too fat or too thin, or they don't like your hair. In life, there's always going to be someone who doesn't like something about you, so you have to focus on what makes you happy about yourself. You're the only person you need to please.
I reassured my mother that it didn’t matter to me if my face was not symmetrical. Me, who had always cared about my appearance, how my hair looked! But when you see death, things change. “It doesn’t matter if I can’t smile or blink properly,” I told her. “I’m still me, Malala. The important thing is God has given me my life.
Being in the beauty industry has taught me that most of us are never satisfied with how we look. We all wish we had better hair, could lose that last 10 pounds, or look like someone else. I always see the beauty in the clients that have sat in my chair, and I've tried to help them see it, too, and feel good about themselves.
I don't want to have to put on that "thing" - I call it "the thing" when I have to do my hair, put on the lashes, get dressed up. When I go out for potato chips, I just want to go out looking like myself, which means you will see bad pictures of me. There probably are some out there right now, but it's just part of the life.
Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried.
I used to work at this store called Music Plus in San Clemente, California, when I was growing up, and then they became Blockbuster Music, and, like, you had to get a haircut to work there, and at the time I had some pretty long hair. So after that policy was imposed, I knew that was going to be my last summer working there.
I don't want water!" Sarah cries, her face buried against my chest. I can't see what's going on in the rest of the lobby beacuse Sarah's hair is flying up in my face, blocking my view. I want justice!" she wails. Well, we'll get you some of that too." Magda has appeared from out of nowhere. "Maybe there's some in the freezer.
We live in a quick-fix society where we need instant gratification for everything. Too fat? Get lipo-sucked. Stringy hair? Glue on extensions. Wrinkles and lines? Head to the beauty shop for a pot of the latest miracle skin stuff. It's all a beautiful £1 billion con foisted upon insecure women by canny cosmetic conglomerates.
You don’t seduce in the same way at my age. You seduce with brains, with talent. Yesterday for lunch I met the most incredible 90-year-old woman. She survived Auschwitz, she was beautiful, she didn’t have white hair, she didn’t wear glasses. She was totally seductive. I just thought, Oh, my God, I still have time ahead of me.
Moon Bloodgood is so dedicated, and I was impressed with her dedication. She was put into some grueling situations - cold, freezing, thrown into mud puddles, cold mountains and she didn't complain once. A lot of actresses would have said, 'Ok, that's a half-hour reset for my hair and make-up' and she didn't; she stuck with it.
Polly Jean, I love you. I love the texture of your skin, the taste of your saliva, the softness of your ears. I love every inch and every part of your entire body. From your toes and the beautifully curved arches of your feet, to the exceptional shade and warmth of your dark hair. I need you in my life, I hope you need me too.
I watch her do the simplest things: brushing her hair into a ponytail, feeding the dog, tying Sophie's shoelaces, and I want to tell her what she means to me, but I never actually say the words. After all, to acknowledge Delia as a drug, I'd have to face the fact that one day I might have to go without her and this I can't do.
Everyone watched, wondering if this could be the same lunatic who'd nearly berthed his ornithopter in the restaurant. I swallowed, for it seemed he was headed straight for my table. He pulled off his helmet and a mass of dark auburn hair spilled out. Off came the goggles, and I was looking at the beaming face of Kate de Vries.
I remember Lena's expression when he knocked on the door; and how Alex had looked at her when she finally let him into the storeroom. I remember exactly what he was wearing, too, and the mess of his hair, the sneakers with their blue-tinged laces. His right shoe was untied. He didn't notice. He didn't notice anything but Lena.
I don't know where this is coming from. What's wrong with my hair? I'm like 'I just made history and people are focused on my hair?' It can be bald or short, it doesn't matter about my hair. Nothing is going to change. I'm going to wear my hair like this during beam and bar finals. You might as well just stop talking about it.
I've developed a fun text when a friend has just had a baby. I ask a classic question: 'Are you sleeping?' The reply is inevitably that they aren't, they're getting a few hours here and there, they're exhausted. It's then when I swoop in: 'It'll all be worth it when they're softly stroking your hair as you slip into oblivion.'
Thanks to capitalism, the importance placed on beauty has never been so manipulated. We are the guinea pigs force-fed ads that tell us how pathetic we are: that we will never be loved, happy or valuable unless we have the body, the face, the hair, even the personality that will apparently be ours, if only we buy their products.
The surgical nurses were right. Theo Buchanan was gorgeous.. and sexy as hell. But none of that should matter. She was his physician, nothing more, noting less.. His hair was sticking up and he needed a shave, but he was still sexy. There wasn't anything wrong with her noticing that.. unless, of course, he noticed her noticing.
I never need to find time to read. When people say to me, ‘Oh, yeah, I love reading. I would love to read, but I just don’t have time,’ I’m thinking, ‘How can you not have time?’ I read when I’m drying my hair. I read in the bath. I read when I’m sitting in the bathroom. Pretty much anywhere I can do the job one-handed, I read.
For me, it's all about the haircut. I don't have a lot of hair to style, so I keep it nice and fresh and tight. I actually go to the barbershop every five days. As soon as your haircut is on point, you have to make sure your outfit is fully ironed, you smell good, and you have clean sneakers on. Pretty much the head-to-toe look.
It was nobody’s choice. It was a chemical reaction. I had to cut it. It basically fell out. Somebody had said to me that it was just because, you know, you’re trying to make Gail, you know, because she’s just now coming out of the closet…Not even for 2 seconds would we ever do that. It literally was a really bad hair experience.
It was so complex [in "Trolls"] that the technical team had to build a new program. It was about rendering and manipulating that weird hair. We also wanted to break the mold of what what we thought the princess was about...we wanted to keep her troll 'look' - the stumpy legs, an ugly/cute look, it was all inspired from the doll.
Engaged in a fiery dance, their bodies were linked and seperated by the flashing blades. At times they nearly touched, taut skin only a hair's breadth away, but then momentum would whirl them apart, and they would withdraw for a second, only to join again. Their sinuous forms wove together like twisting ropes of windblown smoke.
Karen wasn't hard, she was soft, too soft. A soft touch. Her hair was soft, her smile was soft, her voice was soft. She was so soft there was no resistance. Hard things sank into her, they went right through her, and if she made a real effort, out the other side. Then she didn't have to see them or hear them, or even touch them.
Never say you are too old. You do not say it now, perhaps; but by and by, when the hair grows gray and the eyes grow dim and the young despair comes to curse the old age, you will say, "It is too late for me." Never too late! Never too old! How old are you--thirty, fifty, eighty? What is that in immortality? We are but children.
I am very impressed with the results (from laser hair removal). Even after the first treatment, there was a huge difference. I save time everyday that would be spent waxing or shaving. Laser hair removal also saves money in the long run. Now I don't have to deal with razor burn or ingrown hairs since the hair does not grow back!
My good lady,’ interrupted Clent, ‘are you telling me that he is not the Luck? That you have in some way obfuscated the chronology of his nativity?’ Seconds passed. A beetle flew into Mistress Leap’s hair while she stared at Clent, then it struggled free and flew off again. ‘Did you lie about when he was born?’ translated Mosca.
Music really influenced me when I was growing up. I did go through a Jimi Hendrix phase. My hair was naturally quite afro, and I wore low-slung jeans with very high heels. Siouxsie and the Banshees had a lot to answer for. I was in a top hat with peacock feathers and thigh-high black boots. I was 17 -- old enough to know better.
I do not believe in mixing of the races. You can quote me. I don't believe in it, and I never have. I've never changed. I've never changed my hair. I've never changed my color, I have always been proud of myself, and my fans are proud of me for remaining the way I've always been. I married a white man one time, but he was a creep
Her hair is ridiculous," I said. "I know. That was the only thing I said about her that was true. When you say nasty things about people, you should never say the true ones, because you can't really fully and honestly take those back, you know? I mean, there are highlights. And there are streaks. And then there are skunk stripes.
My TWA enabled me to be done at the hair section much earlier than the other girls. I washed my hair and put some conditioner at home before heading to the Armory, where the show took place. The hairstylist basically only had to put some spray so that my TWA would be looking its best. It took the hairstylist literally 10 seconds.
The overseer wouldna speak to me of Ian, but he told me other things that would curl your hair, if it wasna already curled up like sheep's wool." He glanced at me, and a half-smile lit his face, inspite of his obvious perturbation. "Judging by the state of your hair, Sassenach, I should say that it's going to rain verra soon now.
Arthur, with his keen blue eyes and hair of burnished gold, his ready smile and guileless countenance. Wide and heavy of shoulder, long of limb, he towers above other men and, though he does not yet know the power of his stature, he is aware that smaller men become uneasy near him. He is handsomely knit in all; fair to look upon.
Maybe the reality-based fractions of red and blue America are reaching a sort of consensus: Just as Republicans are beginning to get why George Bush makes so many Americans want to rip their hair out, a lot of Democrats have finally, viscerally come to understand Clinton-loathing. Mutual, symmetrical disillusionment; it's a start.
I haven't come to you only to take , I haven't come to you empty handed : I bring you poetry as great as yours but in anther tongue , I bring you black eyes and golden skin and curly hair , I bring you Islam and Luxor and Alexandria and Lutes and tambourines and date-palms and silk rugs and sunshine and incense and voluptuous ways
When I was in Mecca I noticed that their, they had no color problem. That they had people there whose eyes were blue and people there whose eyes were black, people whose skin was white, people whose skin was black, people whose hair was blond, people whose hair was black, from the whitest white person to the blackest black person.
What are you going to call the place?" "I haven't decided yet. Carrington wants to call it Clippety-Do-Da or Hairway to Heaven . . . but I told her we have to be a little bit classier." "Julius Scissors," I suggested. "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow," Jack joined in. Liberty covered her ears. "I'll go out of business in the first week.
There's a reason why forty, fifty, and sixty don't look the way they used to, and it's not because of feminism, or better living through exercise. It's because of hair dye. In the 1950's only 7 percent of American women dyed their hair; today there are parts of Manhattan and Los Angeles where there are no gray-haired women at all.
The urge at that moment to reach across and touch Willow--to link his fingers through hers as she rested her hand on her thigh, or stroke her bright hair back from her temple--was almost overpowering. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yep, definitely time for a coffee break," he said, closing his eyes. "You see right through me.
Some of my favorite photos from the old days are of people who maybe didn't know how to smile. Maybe smiling in photos wasn't an accepted form of behavior back then. But the big eyes and the oversized dolls that people are carrying, and it's something about their hair - the anachronisms of these photos are really what creep me out.
Here's the thing, men have to also mature in how they see women, too. Because they need to understand that it's not just about how we look, it's about who we are. And I am going to tell you like this, 'If you can't love me with short hair, and you telling me I got to have long hair to be loved, guess what, I ain't the one for you.'
You say that if we hadn't just gotten married, you would want to marry Miss Arkansas. Even if she can't spell. She can sit on her hair. A lover could climb that hair like a gym rope. It's fairy-tale hair, Rapunzel hair. We saw her practicing for the pageant in the hotel ballroom with two wild pigs, her hair braided into two lassoes.
It feels very different to have long, thick, brightly colored hair. It makes me feel so conflicted to wear, and I believe showing a conflicted person onstage is actually really interesting and emotionally engaging. I'm trying to not just be the person standing on the outside and looking at something, but to actually be it, in a way.
Mr. Huston (directed Marilyn in Asphalt Jungle and The Misfits) was an exciting looking man. He was tall, long-faced, and his hair was mussed. He interrupted everybody with outbursts of laughter as if he were drunk. But he wasn’t drunk. He was just happy for some mysterious reason, and he was also a genius – the first I had ever met
It sometimes strikes me that the whole of science is a piece of impudence; that nature can afford to ignore our impertinent interference. If our monkey mischief should ever reach the point of blowing up the earth by decomposing an atom, and even annihilated the sun himself, I cannot really suppose that the universe would turn a hair.
Both in verse and in prose [Karl] Shapiro loves, partly out of indignation and partly out of sheer mischievousness, to tell the naked truths or half-truths or quarter-truths that will make anybody's hair stand on end; he is always crying: "But he hasn't any clothes on!" about an emperor who is half the time surprisingly well-dressed.