A Quote by Emilia Clarke

Sometimes I feel like the kid left out - the weirdo with the silver hair that no one likes to talk to. — © Emilia Clarke
Sometimes I feel like the kid left out - the weirdo with the silver hair that no one likes to talk to.
I've always been someone who likes to talk to people. When I was a little kid, I sought out freaks and weirdos that wandered the streets by where I worked in high school. I would just bring them in and talk to them.
You know, sometimes I feel well and vital in the world, and sometimes I just feel so distressed I want to pull my hair out by the roots.
Sometimes stepping out with short hair can feel like leaving home without your phone. You feel stressed and naked. There is, quite literally, nothing to hide behind.
With the first kid, you micromanage it, making sure there's no hair out of place when it goes off to school. But by the third kid, it's more like, "Oh, you want to wear a splatter-painted, Hard Rock Café T-shirt for seven days in a row and not brush your hair? Go for it. Be who you want to be."
A person with grace is somebody who's socially graceful or is a classy person, but sometimes you just feel the opposite of that, and you just feel like a jerk and a loser and a weirdo.
As I accepted the change of the golden hair of my childhood to the reddish-brown hair of my youth without regret, so I also accept my silver hair-and I am ready to accept the time when my hair and the rest of my clay garment returns to the dust from which it came, while my spirit goes on to freer living. It is the season for my hair to be silver, and each season has its lessons to teach. Each season of life is wonderful if you have learned the lessons of the season before. It is only when you go on with lessons unlearned that you wish for a return.
For people who don't love running, they don't understand - but I never feel like anyone is putting a gun to my head to go out for a run. I feel like a kid going out to play - that feeling of when you had a bike as a kid and you'd go out and just ride and be free and have fun.
I keep my hair gray, so I like silver and platinum. For women who dye their hair, they can wear whatever they want.
I feel like hair is the number one thing that makes me feel beautiful or not. If I have really bad hair, but my makeup's beautiful and I have a wonderful dress on, I'm still not happy. So if I wake up, and I've got 2 big zits on my face and my hair looks fierce, I feel ok. I have a weird hair obsession.
Long hair, for me, is actually less maintenance. I went through a phase when I was kid where I wanted a pixie cut. At the time I thought it looked awesome, but I look back and I looked like such a dork! When I have short hair, I feel like I have to blow dry it, or it doesn't sit properly.
Sometimes I feel like there is so much to be afraid of, and sometimes I feel like there is nothing left to fear.
What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did? There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, but because you think I should be. I look back on the way I was. A young, stupid kid that committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try to talk some sense to him. Tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone, and this old man is all that's left.
People think updos are so hard, but they're not. Your hair should look tousled and undone. If I'm in a mood to go out and feel hot and sexy, I want long hair that I can feel on my back. But I also like bed head. Ill usually wash my hair and let it air-dry wavy, but if I'm just in a hang-out mood, I wont even wash it. Ill wait until it smells.
I grew up in the San Fernando Valley, which doesn't feel like L.A. It's a bit different. It's still L.A. County, but it's not the same, it's not the kind of place where they embrace you for being a weirdo. You were just left alone with your Nintendo, and that was my life.
I feel like people who know me, my fans, I want them to know I'm just a regular 21-year-old kid who likes movies, who likes to have fun. It lets people see the other side of you and not just the basketball thing.
I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.
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