A Quote by Carl Sandburg

When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on. — © Carl Sandburg
When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
The whole series is black-and-white, so when I went to shoot one of the women I only had black-and-white film with me. She had reddish hair and was a very pretty girl, a nice girl.
I didn't like my hair and makeup one time on a photo shoot, and my publicist told me, 'You should just be happy with it - they haven't had a black girl on the cover since forever.' She's no longer my publicist.
As a black woman trying different products and figuring out what works best for me, the one thing that I realized is that hair brands lump us together as having 'black hair,' but all black hair is not alike.
The first decade of the twentieth century was not a great time to be born black and poor and female in St. Louis, Missouri, but Vivian Baxter was born black and poor, to black and poor parents. Later she would grow up and be called beautiful. As a grown woman she would be known as the butter-colored lady with the blowback hair.
If I go into the Mississippi Delta at pitch black midnight and put on a Robert Johnson record, it's hard to sit in the car because it's pretty powerful.
No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they're pretty, even if they aren't.
Actually, I wouldn't know what to do now if I had hair. I'm pretty comfortable being bald. It doesn't bother me. I've never had one girl tell me she didn't want to have sex with me because I didn't have any hair.
I think what is magic about black-girl hair is, at its basic level, it's just resilient. It can go from straight to curly in the same day. It's just transformative. When you don't feel so strong, the hair can be a sign of empowerment.
I grew up hearing, 'You're pretty for a black girl,' 'You speak well for a black girl...' I was really bookish. I was reading all of the time. I had big glasses.
As a twelve-year-old girl, I thought that I was only pretty if the people on social media told me that I was pretty - and they weren't telling me I was pretty. So I didn't think I was pretty, and I was really down on myself, and I really was sad with myself. But social media doesn't give you validation or make you pretty. You make you pretty.
I'm a black woman who loves hair. I enjoy changing my hair, having fun with it - just hair! I go from braids, to weaves, to wigs, to natural hair.
At the end of the day, stick up for yourself whether you have spiky hair, long hair, blonde hair, black hair, whatever it is, stick up for yourself and go for your dreams because at the end of the day, you can pretty much accomplish anything if you put your mind to it.
Her hair gives dawn it's fire, her eyes give dusk her soul" He knew how to use his voice to melt a girl's heart, to make a girl want to believe. I steeled myself against the seductive words. "Excuse me?" "It's a line of poetry describing a beautiful girl, one who doesn't seem to know it.
When I devoted myself to poetry - and poetry is a very serious medium - I don't think the people that knew me as an individual with that tongue-in-cheek kind of humor...well, it didn't always lend itself to my poetry. When you're writing poetry, it's like working with gold, you can't waste anything. You have to be very economical with each word you're going to select. But when you're writing fiction, you can just go on and on; you can be more playful. My editor's main task is to cut back, not ask for more.
I didn't have the easiest childhood. I was never the popular girl in school growing up. I was always the lone black girl or the lone fat girl or the long tall girl, so that has made me more compassionate to all people. It also gave me the drive and ambition to go after my dreams in a big way.
At first we raced through space, like shadows and light; her rants, my raves; her dark hair, my blonde; black dresses, white. She's a purple-black African-violet-dark butterfly and I a white moth. We were two wild ponies, Dawn and Midnight, the wind electrifying our manes and our hooves quaking the city; we were photo negatives of each other, together making the perfect image of a girl.
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