A Quote by George Villiers

Men's fame is like their hair, which grows after they are dead, and with just as little use to them. — © George Villiers
Men's fame is like their hair, which grows after they are dead, and with just as little use to them.
The way in which men cling to old institutions after the life has departed out of them, and out of themselves, reminds me of those monkeys which cling by their tails - aye, whose tails contract about the limbs, even the dead limbs, of the forest, and they hang suspended beyond the hunter's reach long after they are dead. It is of no use to argue with such men. They have not an apprehensive intellect, but merely, as it were a prehensile tail.
When you're young, and you have long hair, it's just really long hair. And then you get to a certain point where you start to look after it, and then people will tell you that you have to cut a little bit off so it grows quicker. And it just doesn't. It just has more cut off. And I think I just got really annoyed with it.
...small too even the longest fame thereafter, which is itself subject to a succession of little men who quickly die, and have no knowledge of themselves, let alone of those long dead.
For styling, I don't like a lot of mousse. I do use Sally Hershberger's Texture Blast, which is like a hair spray, but just at the roots. I have really good hair, and I don't like to plaster it.
My hair has been this chapter thing for me. In 'Jem,' I have blue hair. 'Insidious,' it's pink. In 'CSI,' I have blonde. I love changing my hair. It's just hair and it grows all the time.
I don't perm my hair anymore, but I'm not a natural hair expert just because it grows out of my head like that.
Generations of men are like the leaves. In winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, the budding wood grows more. And so with men: one generation grows, another dies away.
Do I get recognized? I guess it depends on if I'm wearing a hat or not. The hairdo is a dead giveaway. There's nothing I can do. It's just the way my hair grows.
Of present fame think little, and of future less; the praises that we receive after we are buried, like the flowers that are strewed over our grave, may be gratifying to the living, but they are nothing to the dead.
An authentic and genuine life grows like a sturdy tree. And like a tree, it grows slowly. Every time you make a different and better decision, it grows a little. Every time you choose to do the right thing, even when nobody would find out otherwise, it grows a little. Every time you act with compassion, relinquish your right to strike back, take a courageous stand, admit fault or accept responsibility, it grows a little.
There are stories about winter ghosts found tangled like lice in their lovers' hair. Dead people have no hair themselves, which is how they can be recognized in winter. But in summer, the living and dead may pass each other on the street, and no one knows the difference.
Men should soon make up their minds to be forgotten, and look about them, or within them, for some higher motive in what they do than the approbation of men, which is fame, namely, their duty; that they should be constantly and quietly at work, each in his sphere, regardless of effects, and leaving their fame to take care of itself.
One of the things that really does annoy me is just comments on my hair. Like 'your hair's not tidy,' or 'Ooh, what's this?' Just little comments that I just think are so inappropriate. Sometimes I'm just like, 'Is it really necessary?' But you know, as a black female, you do learn to just brush these things off, which isn't the way it should be.
A woman with cut hair is a filthy spectacle, and much like a monsterit being natural and comely to women to nourish their hair, which even God and nature have given them for a covering, a token of subjection, and a natural badge to distinguish them from men.
My hair grows and grows; you cannot stop it - that fellow grows, it grows wild.
The reason why congregations have been so dead is, because they had dead men preaching to them. O that the Lord may quicken and revive them! How can dead men beget living children?
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!