I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the wren; and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur; and my eyes, like the sherry in the glass, that the guest leaves.

You are a worthy opponent, Hatsuharu Sohma, but still, your hair is unacceptable and you’ll never convince me that’s your natural color! Impressive evidence! There’s still many strange things in this world unknown to me.

Principal: I’ve allowed that color, but I don’t remember saying you could have long hair. Have it cut by tomorrow.
Ayame Sohma: But Principal…
Principal: No! Rules

It’s kind of… ANNOYING. Apparently they don’t like my hair OR my attitude. So I think in that case… I have no choice but to

Howl : Sophie! You, you sabotaged me! Look! Look at what you’ve done to my hair! Look!
Old Sophie : What a pretty color.
Howl : It’s

Howl : Wow, Sophie, your hair looks just like starlight. It’s beautiful.
Young Sophie : You think so? So do I!

But her eyes were blue and full of anxieties, and her hair was darkish.

You spend all day trying to the perfect outfit. You even change your hairstyle just so he’ll take a second look. But they never notice. Sometimes l just wish that they could trade places with us… so that they would know how it feels.

Every barber always prays for the fast growth of the human hair. It’s a blessing for them.

Fay had grey hair and always dressed in black. She said she was protesting the war.

I came back into the room and excitedly said, “They love their hair.”

“Precisely!” she shouted. “Look on the top bunk.” Perilously positioned on the thin wooden headboard of the bed, a bottle of STA-WET gel. “Kevin doesn’t just wake up with that spiky bedhead look, Pudge. He works for it. He loves that hair. They leave their hair products here, Pudge, because they have duplicates at home. All those boys do. And you know why?”

“Because they’re compensating for their tiny little penises?” I asked.

“Ha ha. No. That’s why they’re macho assholes. They love their hair because they aren’t smart enough to love something more interesting. So we hit them where it hurts: the scalp.”

Undiluted industrial-strength blue number-five hair dye.

My self respect I leave that in the lost and found where the black girls get their weaves back.

Five to ten years was an exaggeration, but a little more time would pass before I cut my hair short, he started calling me just “Mayu” again, and just the two of us would go out on days when the weather was nice.

I speak hair. English is my second language.

Right now I can’t even control my own imagination as it grips my hair and drags me into the dark.

“Look at this!” he shouted “Look at it! what has that one-woman force of chaos done to these spells?”
Sophie and Michael whirled round and looked at Howl. His hair was wet, but, apart from that, neither of them could see that it looked any different.
“If you mean me-” Sophie began.
“I do mean you! Look!” Howl shrieked. He sat down with a thump on the three-legged stool and jabbed at his wet head with his fingers. “Look. Survey. Inspect. My hair is ruined! I look like a pan of bacon and eggs!”
Michael and Sophie bent nervously over Howl’s head. It seemed the usual flaxen color right down to the roots. The only difference might have been a slight, very slight, trace of red. Sophie found that agreeable. It reminded her a little of the color her own hair should have been.
“I think it’s nice,” she said.
“Nice!” screamed Howl. “You would! You did it on purpose. You couldn’t rest until you made me miserable too. Look at it! It’s ginger! I shall have to hide until it’s grown out!” He spread his arms out passionately. “Dispair!” he yelled. “Anguish! Horror!”

I must to the barber’s, monsieur, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the face.

Great hair is a good barber, but a great barber is a great artist.

Barbershops – A hair salon for men.

My great barbering skills gave me my crown. I rule the world of hair.

Barbershop conversations are irrefutable proof that heads exist for the sake of hair.

In a way, the philosopher and the barber are of the same guild; the barber cuts hair and the philosopher split hair.

Goddamn fangs, lookin’ like a motherf**kin’ extra from Blade. Oh, we wanna talk about hair? Let’s talk about hair for a second, shall we? Let’s talk about that bald-ass, shiny head of yours: lookin’ like the black Destro. Honestly, this motherf**ker looks like a Milk Dud. Nah, nah, nah, you don’t have to be a Milk Dud. You could be Tic Tacs the way your goddamn breath’s been kickin’. You smell like you’ve been chewin’ on buttholes all afternoon — diarrhea buttholes, diarrhea stinky buttholes. Get a toothbrush homes!

Jeep hairs do not care.

Gross! You’re crop-dusting my whole entire bedroom with your pubes right now. Don’t be sorry, dude. Just cover up that marble sack.