The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about read more

The little wind that hardly shook
The silver of the sleeping brook
Blew the gold hair about her eyes,--
A mystery of mysteries.
So he must often pause, and stoop,
An all the wanton ringlets loop
Behind her dainty ear--emprise
Of slow event and many sighs.

Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things he's got read more

Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things he's got it all.

And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.

And from that luckless hour my tyrant fair
Has led and turned me by a single hair.

Within the midnight of her hair,
Half-hidden in its deepest deeps.

Within the midnight of her hair,
Half-hidden in its deepest deeps.

But she is vanish'd to her shady home
Under the deep, inscrutable; and there
Weeps in a read more

But she is vanish'd to her shady home
Under the deep, inscrutable; and there
Weeps in a midnight made of her own hair.

The person who doesn't scatter the morning dew will not comb gray hairs

The person who doesn't scatter the morning dew will not comb gray hairs

Gray hair is a sign of age, not of wisdom.

Gray hair is a sign of age, not of wisdom.

Prejudice is like a hair across your cheek. You can't see it, you can't find it with your fingers, but read more

Prejudice is like a hair across your cheek. You can't see it, you can't find it with your fingers, but you keep brushing at it because the feel of it is irritating.

It is foolish to pluck out one's hair for sorrow, as if grief
could be assuaged by baldness.
read more

It is foolish to pluck out one's hair for sorrow, as if grief
could be assuaged by baldness.
[Lat., Stultum est in luctu capillum sibi evellere, quasi calvito
maeror levaretur.]