The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, forever, and forever! Then flashed the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies.
I got a feeling I had loads when I was in primary school, 'cause I had red hair; you know, like Duracell.
I've had years of teasing about my red hair, but I definitely think it toughened me up. If you're ginger, you end up pretty quick-witted.
I'm not Irish. Just because I have red hair doesn't mean I'm a lucky charm, you know?
When red-headed people are above a certain social grade their hair is auburn.
I will love you always. When this red hair is white, I will still love you. When the smooth softness of youth is replaced by the delicate softness of age, I will still want to touch your skin. When your face is full of the lines of every smile you have ever smiled, of every surprise I have seen flash through your eyes, when every tear you have ever cried has left its mark upon your face,I will treasure you all the more, because I was there to see it all. I will share your life with you, Meredith, and I will love you until the last breath leaves your body or mine.
The Ethiopians say that their gods are snub-nosed and black the Thracians that theirs have light blue eyes and red hair.
Up until I was 12 my sisters used to dress me up as a girl and introduce me as 'Claudia'! Twelve was a real turning point for me as I moved to a mixed school, and then I became cool and discovered hair gel.
This is sad. I just think it’s a little ridiculous we are still only looking at the surface of one another. Red hair? Blue hair? Pink? Blonde? Short? Long? Whatever. We might as well shave our heads. Hair has nothing to do with the reason we playing music. It’s a style. Something that will never last as long as the songs we play and the words we sing. Listen up ladies in bands, I’m so proud to be one of you and I don’t care if we all look exactly alike or if we are all carbon copies of each other. We have things to say and it’s up to us to get people to not just look but to LISTEN!
Oh, most unhappy man,' he cried, 'try to be happy! You have red hair like your sister.' My red hair, like red flames, shall burn up the world,' said Gregory.
I would literally have to go meet people so they could see I didn't have big red hair and wear high heels constantly. It was just really ingrained in people.
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.
A hairdresser who did my hair said, "You, my darling, have something that we call successful' hair," which is basically battered hair that's split and falling out in the back because you've had to blow-dry it every day. I don't want my hair falling out, so I wear wigs!
Louis-Cesare’s anger suddenly filled the small room like water, and in a heartbeat his eyes went from silver tinged to as solid as two antique coins. I sat frozen, awash in a sea of power. I was beginning to understand why Mircea had wanted him along, only Daddy had failed to mention anything about the hair-trigger temper. I guess he assumed the red hair would clue me in.
People always say you can't do a red lip if you have red hair but I've never shied away from it. I think you can absolutely do that. It's more about hair colour and complexion.
When you get down to it, at it's root, Comedy is truth, absurdity, and pain. One of my little mottos is: 'Do you remember the Peanuts cartoon where Charlie Brown kicked the football and kissed the Little Red Haired Girl? Neither do I.
Nowadays everyone's got the nose rings and the colored hair, so for me to wear the suit and tie is a different way to go.
In a perfect world, mothers would remind their daughters each morning of how beautiful their strong noses are, or how special their curly red hair is.
There was Kir, red hair combed back and That Expression on his sharp face. Even his freckles looked serious. I'd given up wondering how a freckle-faced teenager could look so much like a disapproving granny.
City lights shine bright on my complexion, Self-reflection...red hairs flashing at the intersection. Life is a green light, one star, no script, Supporting actors...fresh peaches, no pit.
Ash, ash —- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
But her name was Esmé. She was a girl with long, long, red, red hair. Her mother braided it. The flower shop boy stood behind her and held it in his hand. Her mother cut it off and hung it from a chandelier. She was Queen. Mazishta. Her hair was black and her handmaidens dressed it with pearls and silver pins. Her flesh was golden like the desert. Her flesh was pale like cream. Her eyes were blue. Brown.
If you've got red hair, try washing it in cranberry juice. And, if you're blonde, a champagne rinse can work wonders.
Whenever you write a character, you want to make them themselves, you want to make them unique. You don't want fifty characters in your book and they all pretty much act and think the same except they have different colored hair.
In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.
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