…you know how hard it is to be utterly, drop dead gorgeous," she said, twirling that shiny instrument of torture she liked to call her hair.
The very first thing I saw was his eyes, bluer and brighter than the sea itself. They gazed at me, so dazzling, and for an instant I couldn't even feel the pain. I was too overcome by the handsomeness of this sandy haired boy
Oh," she said, in a very different way. "Well. Thanks for my part in the compliment. Naturally I'd love to be watched and controlled, but I think I may be washing my hair that day.
Never be afraid to tell me anything,” he whispered against her hair. “No matter how ashamed you might feel. I’ll never judge you, Rachel. I love you.
Didn't Mary Magdalene wash Jesus' feet with her hair at some point? I don't see why I can't wash yours with my tongue." "I didn't know you knew this much about the Bible." "I know enough to be dangerous.
Can you be a girl for a few seconds?" "I'm always a girl" I frown. "You know what I mean. Like a silly, annoying girl" I twirl my hair around my finger. "Kay.
(Sookie's Thoughts on Debbie Pelt) she had been cruel to Alcide, insulted me grievously, burned a hole in my favorite wrap and—oh—tried to kill me by proxy. Also, she had stupid hair.
I remembered the last time I put this thing into my eye it was more painful than watching old political speeches while listening to the “Macarena” and having a root canal performed by an angry, clumsy chimp.
I can see his pain, see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, over and over, and I understand what it costs him to hide it all.
Kids shouting and skidding in the playground with no idea what future Hells awaited them: boring jobs and ruinous mortgages and bad marriages and hair loss and hip replacements and lonely cups of coffee in an empty house and a colostomy bag at the ho...
There ain't enough happens in soccer. It's like watching twenty-two hair models kick a ball around for what seems like six months and then one of them falls over and the ball goes in the goal.
In a few hours, she’ll see Anna for herself. She’ll see her dressed in blood, her hair floating like it’s suspended in water, eyes black and shining. And when she does, she won’t be able to catch her breath.
I like to see you in a sari, with your long hair dressed in a single plait. Don't forget that I married a girl from India because I like my wife to be conservative and feminine.
She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims...
She loosened her grip on his hair and lightly scraped her fingernails over his cheek to his incredible lips. "I could kiss you all day." Laith's gaze intensified. "All right.
A list of things you might not hear: eylash opening on the pillow, the appearance of a star, a leaf leaving a tree, a hand in your hair, a lie being withheld, a tear's journey from eye to shoe, air becoming blue, longing.
His lips were approaching hers, but she could not taste sin. Not yet. Not until she knew the name of this golden haired man, so her soul could sing his name for the rest of eternity.
He kissed her temple, her hair, and then her mouth again, with great passion and heartbreaking tenderness. "My Love... from the beginning of time until the end. Always and forever. You'll always be my love. Always.
That should have been my strategy! By the time I’ve worked through the emotions of surprise, admiration, anger, jealousy, and frustration, I’m watching that reddish mane of hair disappear into the trees well out of shooting range.
Kiril sat up and raked a hand through his hair. In the light of dawn, Shara was still on his mind. She was a Dark, a spy sent to monitor a spy.
A brick could help get your unruly hair under control, by getting at the root of the problem—your skull. Increase force as necessary.
