Long Hair Quotes

Quotes tagged as "long-hair" (showing 1-6 of 6)
“You want us to bargain with a lizard?”
“They’re not lizards, Father. They’re extraordinary creatures who were
here long before any human was crawling on this earth. They are warriors
and scholars and—”
“He has long hair like a woman,” one of Sigmar’s sons blathered”
G.A. Aiken, What a Dragon Should Know

V.C. Andrews
“I brushed it until it shone and looked somewhat like it used to look,
only far thinner, and less glorious.”
V.C. Andrews, Flowers in the Attic

Paul Monette
“Apparently long hair was enough to make you a faggot in Chicago in ’68.”
Paul Monette, Becoming a Man: Half a Life Story

Sarah Addison Allen
“Her hair was longer than it used to be, and it veiled her shoulders like a shawl. She used it for protection.”
Sarah Addison Allen, Garden Spells

Jenna Petersen
“I'll ring for someone to take my hair down." The tremor in her voice grew stronger and struck both a primal and protective chord in him.
"No." He held up his hand to keep her from crossing to the bell at the door. The idea of someone invading their privacy was actually physically painful for him. "I'll do it."
"Take my hair down?" Her eyes widened. "You?"
Nodding, he motioned to the dressing table. She sat and he found himself staring down at the crown of black satin that was her elaborate hairstyle. Had he ever taken a woman's hair down? He didn't think so, but the scent of lavender that seemed to hang around her addled his mind and filled his senses until he couldn't have moved if she paid him good money.
Slowly, he eased his fingers into her hair and she let out a long sigh as he massaged her scalp.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, surprised he could breathe, let alone speak.
"N-No." In the mirror, her eyes darkened and dilated.
If that was her reaction to his touch, he planned to take her hair down each and every night. With trembling fingers, he set about finding the pins. Finally, her hair cascaded down her back in a long, flowing cloak. It wafted out sweetness as a few strands brushed his legs and fell to her hips. He might have believed he'd died and was in heaven if he weren't so aware of his body's sinful reactions to touching her.
"Brush," he requested softly.
She complied with shaking hands.
Stroke by stroke, he glided the brush bristles through her hair- gently, so as not to hurt her, he smoothed the waves. How had he not known how erotic a woman's hair could be? He prided himself on his experience, but for the first time in a long time, he questioned his prowess.
It affected her, too. In the mirror he could see her shut her eyes, and apparently try to bite back soft moans each time his hands weaved through her hair. Triumph coursed through his every nerve and vein.”
Jenna Petersen, Scandalous