I won't usually make plans with people I don't know on Fridays because all I want to do is stick my hair in a ponytail and put on a big sweater, some tights and a pair of sneakers after a week working in the city.
I shampoo only once a week or so, with tree tea oil shampoo. And when I slap moisturizer on my face - just some stuff I bought in the grocery store - I pile it through my hair.
When I showed up at UH, my hair was past my waist. I had a goatee. I wasn't a theater geek; I wasn't an actor. But Cecil Pickett molded me and taught me.
Like some winter animal the moon licks the salt of your hand, Yet still your hair foams violet as a lilac tree From which a small wood-owl calls.
My hair is a wild, untamable beast! I like letting it grow; my bangs grow whatever way they want and I kind of follow their rule. So side bangs, poof bangs - it's kind of unpredictable.
If you get hold of a head of hair on somebody you've never seen before, cut beautiful shapes, cut beautiful architectural angles and she walks out looking so different - I think that's masterful.
When we were in D.C. my daddy used to cut his hair with a bowl. Crucial. If you're African, Haitan, Jamaican or even more poor than the people in the project, you'll know about that.
Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.
When not working, I use a lot of treatments; from ancient casero - honey, avocado, stuff like that - other times, I buy ones you leave on for a few minutes. I don't blow dry my hair ever unless for work; I'd rather go for the natural look.
I've been working some really long hours for the last five or six years. Anybody who works on series television knows, and especially women because women spend probably two hours more than the guys with all their hair and makeup crap.
I've always felt, with 'The Iliad,' a real frustration that it's read wrong. That it's turned into this public school poem, which I don't think it is. That glamorising of war, and white-limbed, flowing-haired Greek heroes - it's become a cliched, Bri...
The first thing that matters: I am a child of the eighties. I grew up in a neon wonderland of talking horses, compassionate bears, hair that didn't move in a stiff wind, and the constant threat of nuclear war.
He leaned forward to inspect her closer. "Is that all hair?" ... Sudden, overwhelming panic clawed up Cress's throat. With a squeak, she ducked out of view of the camera and scrambled beneath the desk. Her back struck the wall with a thud that rattle...
Cormag caught his hand and pulled him back until they were facing each other. “I think you're amazing,” he said, blurting the words out. Lachlan smiled, completely shocked and thrilled by how captivating he found him. He had never thought this co...
Do I have to give you hair torture to get it out of you?” What is ? From the light in her eyes and the jaunty uptick of her mouth, I had a sense it would be pleasurable. “Do what you must.” In a dash, she pinned my wrists above my head. Her hea...
Lately, though, he'd just been tired in general. Tired of people. Tired of books and TV and the nightly news and songs on the radio he'd heard years before and hadn't liked much in the first place. He was tired of his clothes and tired of his hair an...
RIDE A WHITE SWAN" "Ride it on out like a bird in the skyway, Ride it on out like you were a bird, Fly it all out like an eagle in a sunbeam, Ride it all out like you were a bird. Wear a tall hat like the druid in the old days Wear a tall hat and a T...
Max, you can change your mind.” His voice was like autumn leaves dropping lightly onto the ground. “I don’t know how.” Then my throat felt tight, and I rubbed my fists against my eyes. I dropped my face onto my arms, crossed over my knees. Th...
Beside me, Molly rolled her shoulders in a few jerky motions and pushed at her hair in fitful little gestures. She tugged at her well-tattered skirts, and grimaced at her boots. "Can you see if there’s any mud on them?" I paused to consider her for...
I pushed her shiny blond hair away from her face and leaned down, our faces only inches apart. She inhaled softly, our lips so close I could feel her breath and the scent of her skin, like honeysuckle in springtime. She smelled like sweet tea and old...
[Pauline is spending the Easter holiday with the Hulmes. Hilda Hulme, brushing Pauline's hair into an attractive shag, listens while Juliet describes more of the story that they've been devising] Juliet Hulme: Mummy, Paul and I have decided that Char...
