Redhead Quotes

“Venus in Furs has caught his soul in the red snares of hair. He will paint her, and go mad.”
― Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, Venus in Furs

“She was not the still quiet type. Aphrodites never are.”
― Lenora Henson

“Blondes are the girlfriend, brunete is the femme fatale, but the heroine, she's the redheaded girl.”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair

“Hellish goosebumps flash up my back, ripping, like tiny molecular machetes beneath the skin. As a redhead my face has no ability to hide fear.”
― Michael Benzehabe, Zonked Out: The Teen Psychologist of San Marcos Who Killed Her Santa Claus and Found the Blue-Black Edge of the Love Universe

“All the kick-ass girls have red hair.”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair

“Redhead

All over the house
Strands of copper hair
Like filaments from a cobweb
Collect.
If you and I
Were ever to part—

For months, perhaps years,
I’d be combing out,
Brushing or picking up
Strands of significance,

Traces of you
In my life”
― john j geddes

“But any idea of plainness is simply contrary to the fancy color that is red.”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair

“Natural Redheads Rock!”
― Stephanie Lahart

“West couldn't stop staring at Lady Clare. He had the feeling if he reached out to touch her, he would come away with his fingers scorched. That hair, blazing from beneath a simple gray traveling bonnet... he'd never seen anything like it. Bird-of-paradise red, with glimmers of crimson dancing amid the pinned-up locks. Her skin was flawless ivory except for a tender spray of freckles sprinkled across her nose, like a finishing spice on some luxurious dessert.
She had the look of someone who had been nurtured: educated and well dressed. Someone who had always been lovingly sheltered. But there was a shadow in her gaze... the knowledge that there were some things no human being could be protected from.
God, those eyes... light gray, with striations like the rays of tiny stars.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I know that Southern redhead type,” Bruno said, poking at his apple pie.”
― Patricia Highsmith, Strangers on a Train

“It's her. The woman from the photo."
The plate was foxed around the edges, but the painting at its center was still intact. The annotation beneath gave the title as Sleeping Beauty and the artist's name, Edward Radcliffe. The woman in the painting was lying in a fantastical treetop bower of leaves and flower buds, all of which were waiting in stasis for the chance to bloom. Birds and insects were interspersed amongst the woven branches; long red hair flowed in waves around her sleeping face, which was glorious in repose. Her eyes were closed, but the features of her face- the elegant cheekbones and bow lips- were unmistakable.
"She was his model," Elodie whispered.”
― Kate Morton, The Clockmaker's Daughter

“I turned around and waved my fingers at Taylor. “Don’t worry, I’m nothing to be jealous of. I’m just using Holt for sex. He’s so good in bed.”
Her mouth dropped open.
I climbed in the truck.
Holt was still laughing when he fired up the engine and backed out of the driveway. Since her car was parked right behind his, he had to swerve wide and drive on the lawn before pulling out onto the street and driving away.
Taylor just stood there and watched.
“You’re a little feisty, aren’t you?” he said, giving me an approving stare.
“I am a redhead.”
― Cambria Hebert, Torch

“Redheads are a variant that survived, a color minority, though not a skin color precisely, not a race, but still subject to identification by the wary eyes and wagging tongues of the majority.”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair

“I can't help thinking: Am I related in some traceable way to all redheads, if there were any such genetic thing as "all redheads"?”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair

“No redheads, though, are plain.”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair

“But every redhead's temper has its limitations.”
― Carol Ryrie Brink, Caddie Woodlawn

“As she reached the entrance hall, she saw Lady St. Vincent coming in from the back terrace, her cheeks wind-brightened, the hem of her gown littered with bits of leaves and grass. She looked like an untidy angel, with her lovely calm face and rippling red hair, and the playful spray of light gold freckles across her nose.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight

“Her velvet red locks pour out of either side of her hood, hanging over her chest like blood.”
― Ilse V. Rensburg, Sleight of Hand

“And of course there was the sheer physical fact of her, the blood-tinged blade that she was, the riot of color that caught everyone’s attention.”
― Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

“Oh, she was a great beauty," Maggie replied, and Hetty nodded in agreement.

"The clearest blue-green eyes, and skin like peaches, with a splendid dusting of freckles," she said.

"And her hair -- 'twas flaming red, and fell in marvellous profusion," Maggie added. "We used to call her Queen Elizabeth -- in jest, you understand, for the real Queen was quite fearsome I do believe. Mrs Bramstone almost hated Bessie I think, for how lovely she was".”
― Clementine Darling, The Lost Children of Gloam's End

“Redheads, don't jump, Tony. They hang on-and wither. (I'll Be Waiting)”
― Raymond Chandler, The Simple Art of Murder

“Siobhan wanted to be more like the heroines of the books she liked, about girl detectives and girl adventurers: tomboyish, scrappy, and resourceful, able to outsmart adults and survive without them, her body sun-brown and waiflike. She was, instead, a freckled, blue-eyed redhead, pale and dense as a block of shortening, who wasn’t allowed to use the stove.”
― Kim Fu, The Lost Girls of Camp Forevermore

“For one thing, she was quite astonishingly beautiful. Not at all in the common style, she was possessed of a thick mane of impossibly flame-colored hair, a tall, lush body of dangerous voluptuousness, and the warm, honey-colored eyes of a complete innocent. That red hair called to him, a siren lure, but he assumed it was only nostalgia and misplaced sentiment. Not that he'd ever been known to possess those two qualities.”
― Anne Stuart, To Love a Dark Lord

“He was still fully clothed, and she was naked, vulnerable. His eyes traveled slowly down the length of her, not missing a detail. He would see the abundance of her curves, the heart-shaped birthmark beneath her left breast, the scar on her hip from the time she'd fallen out of a tree. He would see what no man had ever seen before, her breasts, her belly, her...
The silence built and grew. She'd shut her eyes tightly, momentarily embarrassed out of the sensual lassitude he'd instilled in her. But finally she could stand it no longer, and she opened her eyes once more, to glance up at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
For the moment there was no telling. His eyes were hooded as he stared down at her, and she was suddenly terrified that she was being judged by a connoisseur and found wanting. No wonder he hadn't taken her to his bed. It had been no great battle to preserve her innocence. Indeed, the battle had been to lose it.
And then he leaned forward, and the mask was gone from his eyes, his face, if just for the moment, and the longing was back. "A true redhead," he murmured. "My love, you're magnificent.”
― Anne Stuart, To Love a Dark Lord

“She was going to plant a Japanese maple tree on top. She had already procured it, a lovely sapling with pale bark and the most elegant limbs, long and even, fine but strong. It had been one of Edward's favorite trees; the leaves were red in spring, turning by autumn to a most beautiful bright copper color, just like Lily Millington's hair. No, not Lily Millington, she corrected herself, for that had never been her real name.
"Albertine," Lucy whispered, thinking back to that mild Hampstead afternoon when she had seen the shock of red in the glass house at the bottom of the garden and Mother had instructed her to take two cups of tea "in the finest china." "Your name was Albertine Bell."
Birdie, to those who loved her.”
― Kate Morton, The Clockmaker's Daughter

“You stick dough in hair that red, it woulda baked into a biscuit.”
― Leah Weiss, If the Creek Don't Rise

“The chicken's great," says Grace on the TV screen as she gnaws on a chicken bone, much to Will's disgust. I've always felt a kinship with Grace Adler's character. Maybe it's the red hair or the fact that she's Jewish, or the way in one episode she pretended to be an alcoholic so that she could get free Krispy Kreme doughnuts and hot cocoa at AA meetings. I can relate to all of those things. There's very little I wouldn't do for a free Krispy Kreme doughnut.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“I looked at the baby again. He was in for some teasing 'cause redheads always get teased. I reckoned he'd need me to make sure he learned how to put up with it.”
― K.D McCrite

“You could fire me and send me away. Then where would I be? You know what happens to girls like me, who have no home to speak of? We end up riding the trains westward, picking up work at brothels, being worthless women in the eyes of society. Castle Moreau is a terrifying place, Mr. Tremblay. Your grandmother is horrific, and you, sir, are nothing short of a beast behind a desk ready to spring on me. So no, I do not speak my mind. I bite my tongue to stay alive, stay employed, and stay free of the defiling way of life many women in my shoes find themselves."
She bit her tongue, contrary to what she'd just said, and everything inside of Daisy quivered at the realization. Perhaps her red hair did hide a smart wit after all, but a smart wit didn't imply a smart mouth, and she'd shown little wisdom in allowing Lincoln Tremblay to goad her into an honest outburst.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Elizabeth had lent her an aquamarine dress, originally made for Georgiana, with elbow-length sleeves and intricate embroidery of butterflies and bees. It set Daisy's red hair ablaze. 'Fire on water,' Elizabeth had declared with pleasure when her maid had first tried it on.”
― Kayte Nunn, The Botanist's Daughter