Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Curl. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Curl Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Victoria Clayton,Amit Chaudhuri,Anonymous,E.l. James,Sara Raasch for you to enjoy and share.
charmed the words out of
Her hair is troublesome and curly ... It falls in long, black strands, but each strand has a gentle, complicated undulation travelling through it, like a mild electric shock or a thrill, hat gives it a life of its own; it is visually analogous to a tremolo on a musical note.
Hair is like a flock of goatsstreaming down Mount Gilead. b
Own company, reading a classic British novel, curled
The question tumbles out of my mouth like a smooth stone in a stream, its edges worn clean by how often I roll it around in my head.
Stream is stream.
I've got feathers in my hair,
I get down to beat poetry.
And what can still delight an inert stone except to become, once more, the bed of a raging torrent?
Every seam, every lace, every bead has been painstakingly, with love, corrected, perfected and mastered,
The braid is always stronger than the strand.
She tangled her words
like matted fishing lines
Zigzag... don't bunch up. Weave like a drunk on New Year's... Got it?
You can put in a curl or put on a lip color or mascara, but the important thing is that the health of your skin and hair is shining through.
The following doodle: a girl with pigtails is bent under the weight of a gigantic boulder. Her cheeks puff out, and her rounded lips expel steam. One widening steam cloud contains the word Pressure, darkly retraced.
The Fates but only spin the coarser clue; The finest of the wool is left for you.
Armed with a comb and a brush, Dante parted his uncle's thick hair and began to dab hair dye along the line.
I love Dr.Ducks Ax Wax ... Glossily Yours ...
My surfboard is a 7-foot-3-inch spoon made by Rip Curl, kind of between a longboard and a shortboard. Surfing brings me into the here and now. It's a dance with the present.
Tangle me up like Grandma's yarn,
For years I used to try to straighten my hair, but I've reached a stage where I think, 'I've got red curly hair, and it's actually really great.'
Uri Geller may have psychic powers by means of which he can bend spoons; if so, he appears to be doing it the hard way.
Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it "wind tossed."
If only she knew.
The knowingness of little girls, is hidden underneath their curls.
Bend like the willow, winds gonna blow you hard and cold tonight. Life as it happens, nobody warns you, willow hold on tight.
Let me have two locks of your hair, and help my mother plait them into a bow-string for me. "Does anything depend on it asked Hallgerd". "My life depends on it replied Gunnar.
Pull,
my finger
please.
There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
And when she was "bad",
Her Papa loved her anyway.
Ragged curls of unfurling ampersands swam across her vision.
my hair was a mass of tangled curls just like the old days, minus
There came a point when I wanted to do television, and I didn't think the Afro was going to play, so I made a very difficult choice - to straighten my hair.
I'm actually so low maintenance when it comes to my hair. It's naturally stick-straight, but I do like to use a curling iron to give my locks some life.
I never saw such curls - how could I, for there never were such curls! - as those she shook out to hide her blushes.
LaHill was a dark, burly fellow whose hair curled out of his clothes wherever it could.
Under the comb, the tangle and the straight path are the same.
Prose is like hair; it shines with combing.
My hair-- bob it!
Each item of business was described in the expansive, flourishing script that Balfour associated in his mind, with a man who could afford to waste his ink on curlicues.
Using creative expression as a means to a professional end makes me curl up a bit.
You yank my hair back even harder, creating a sudden hurt which nearly
topples me over the edge of the precipice.
Look at me whilst you beg me, little one ...
Shined, combed, brushed and gorgeous
One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.
My favorite author's question of all time - because it's so simple to answer ... 'Is your hair really like that, or do you get it done?
Well-makers lead the water (wherever they like) ; fletchers bend the arrow ; carpenters bend a log of wood ; wise people fashion themselves.
A rune, hovering like an angel: a shape like two wings joined by a single bar.
Neither in environment nor in heredity can I find the exact instrument that fashioned me, the anonymous roller that pressed upon my life a certain intricate watermark whose unique design becomes visible when the lamp of art is made to shine through life's foolscap.
untrammelled flow
Her hair curled around her shoulders, long and loose, held back with glinting clips, in one those magical ways girls have of making their hair look like it is supposed to be up, but also sort of falling down.
For me the working of hair is architecture with a human element.
Wings - -vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.
For nine years I worked to change what was hairdressing then into a geometric art form with color, perm without setting which had never been done before.
Charm Your Own Cheese,
I used to hold a fiery wind
and I tried to determine the direction
where poetry would fly.
This love is thickly plaited.
The sea waves stirred before me
they dashed against the rocks
Like a mermaid rising from its depths
curled white sea foam were her locks ...
I save the curly one for my wife
The waves lie on the beach; Your hair on your back of angel. (Les vagues s'allongent sur la plage; - Tes cheveux sur ton dos d'ange. )
Bliss braided it's way through her, explosive and terrifying. Every pain she'd endured over the years disappeared from memory. Their mouths made seamless, perfect fit. Every tilt, every breath, every tangle of their tongues was as if she'd found where she belonged.
Nothing can stop the words so well as the mute alphabet of knit and purl. The curl of your cupped hand scoops up long drinks of calm. The rhythm you find is from down inside, rocking cradle, heartbeat, ocean. Waves on a rockless shore.
My hair is capable of doing a lot of different things.
Wart draggled off to the tower room, where Merlyn was busy knitting himself a woollen night-cap for the winter. "I cast off two together at every other line," said the magician, "but for some reason it seems to end too sharply. Like an onion. It is the turning of the heel that does one, every time.
So thick with cobwebs it seemed like skeletons had decorated for a party. Raven fought her way through the webs to the far wall and ripped the velvet cloth off the mirror. She saw her own reflection staring back - long black hair with purple highlights, dark eyebrows,
The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kisst.
Fall the deep curtains,
delicate the weave,
fair the thread.
Inside every bent stick there is a bow, and in the wake of every arrow's passing there lies a story.
Feathers needed, swan preferred.
Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Combing her thoughts, yanking them into a pigtail.
lift, not even for an instant, as she runs a comb through my
I made a braid because Chinese old people, they say that the God will take you by the hair to join you with - but God didn't take me, so I cut the braid.
I am a spinner of yarns; hopefully to transport the reader or listener to places I see in my minds eye.
You know, that's a really beautiful bow," Neverfell interrupted suddenly. "Did you make it?"
"Found it, mended it, modified it," was the curt reply.
It is a tangled skein, you understand, and I am looking for a loose end.
Penis? Cock? Dick? Wood? Schlong? Womb broom? Clam hammer? Yogurt slinger?
The path behind is twisted, the path ahead unknown.
Can you row?" the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles as she spoke.
"Yes, a little
but not on land
and not with needles
" Alice was beginning to say.
Unwind the - Stan began, and then there was a much louder explosion. The echo rolled slowly across the Barrens. A cloud of gulls rose from the eastern side of the dump, squalling and crying. They all jumped this time. Stan dropped
Her wavy blond hair
One of the great joys in life is having ones hair brushed.
If you want to mimic spoons in a drawer, I promise I won't think anythin' of it."
She realized that curling the same way they'd fit much better. She sighed. "Okay, but I get to be the big spoon. I don't want to accidentally bump into your ... "
"Knife?" he supplied.
Hey, princess of Popsicles! Queen of curlicue cones.
Almost every day, someone asks if I ever flat iron my hair. I say, 'No, because I'm afraid it wouldn't look good and wouldn't come back curly.'
First of all, don't mix your hairpins up with mine! You ... Oh! All right, mix your muck with mine. Mix it! Mix your rags with my tatters! Mix it all up ...
Hair excited me. As the old ways - backcombing, rollers and rigidity - went out of the window, I started to feel the possibilities in front of my eyes.
We fell to wrestling again. We rolled all over the floor, in each other's arms, like two huge helpless children. He was naked and goatish under his robe, and I felt suffocated as he rolled over me. I rolled over him. We rolled over me. They rolled over him. We rolled over us.
Alone I walked on the ocean strand, A pearly shell was in my hand; I stooped, and wrote upon the sand My name, the year, the day. As onward from the sport I passed, One lingering look behind I cast, A wave came rolling high and fast, And washed my lines away.
A hard pain it Munro's spine as it lurched into an awkward curve, arching his back off the surface where he lay. Muscles contracted, jerking and releasing, jerking and releasing. The calm voices grew insistent and frenzied, but in a controlled, orchestrated way.
My hair was slicked down with a part. But that was before I discovered the blow-dryer. Now I'm fabulous.
A Waft of Cheese
I don't want a wig that looks like a wig; I want one that could pass for a weave.
Down from his brow she ran his curls like thick hyacinth clusters full of blooms
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
The stream that hustles us
Neither nourishes nor heals.
It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.
She scissored the curls away, and - toms, grow easily sentimental over their haircuts, but I remember this sensation very vividly - it was not like she was cutting hair, it was as if I had a pair of wings beneath my shoulder-blades, that the flesh had all grown over, and she was slicing free ...
I have very curly hair and I straighten it every day - it takes maybe two minutes. I can't imagine anyone having a bigger challenge than I do in the kinkiness that is my crazy 'fro.'
The waters of the Ganga are roaring among his matted locks.
A hairbrush.
Khalil died over a fucking hairbrush.
I love all types of braids. Single, multiple, box braids - I try them all.
My path will weave
The way you say
There is no doubt
You'll create the way
ONE DAY, COCK OF THE WALK - NEXT DAY, A FEATHER DUSTER