A Quote by Skai Jackson

I have supersensitive skin, to the point where sometimes I touch my neck and it turns red. — © Skai Jackson
I have supersensitive skin, to the point where sometimes I touch my neck and it turns red.
Human beings ought not to draw in their antennae at every ungentle touch, like supersensitive insects.
I am preppy, geek-chic with a touch of Bozo the Clown with a touch of 'Showgirls.' Sometimes, I look at myself and think I should put on a red nose, white face and maybe entertain some kids.
I just tend to do things to myself that I don't realize I'm doing. Sometimes I bite my lip so that it splits and hurts, and yet I can't stop. And sometimes I'd play shows on the last run, I'd scratch my neck while I was singing, and I'd horrified to see these red streaks of blood after.
Sometimes I think everything I touch turns into a Page Six item.
As it turns out, sometimes that bites you. In this case, I saw pictures of Earl [Mills], and...I actually met him. He was quite old at the time, but he had this sort of curly red hair, so we did that in the film. I got a perm and had red hair, and... It was a mess.
When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?
The heart and soul of sex is the physical heat it creates between two bodies. Sometimes playful, sometimes passionate, sometimes pure and sweet, this skin-to-skin connection renews your bond and strengthens chemistry.
We used to play football on the levee, with no shirts on in the summer - August in New Orleans - and my skin would turn red. They'd call me Redskin, Red Apache, then it turned around to Apache Red.
If I decide to make a coat red in the show, it's not just red, I think: is it communist red? Is it cherry cordial? Is it ruby red? Or is it apple red? Or the big red balloon red?
Stan Hansen was a different ballgame. I broke my neck wrestling him in Madison Square Garden. I spent a month in the hospital and for a while it was touch and go because the doctors told me I came within a millimeter of being paralyzed from the neck down.
You have the Midas touch. Everything you touch turns to a muffler.
I think that there should be this thing for cover-ups on tattoos. I want to develop it. It's like a skin-toned transfer, and then all the make-up artist has to do is airbrush over it to blend it into the skin. There's nothing like that. At the moment, you literally have to go red and get it to skin color, which takes forever.
I want to steer the national conversation in the right direction, from my point of view. I want to get under Robert Gibbs' skin and Rahm Emanuel's skin and Barack Obama's skin.
She'd assumed she'd be married and have kids by this age, that she would be grooming her own daughter for this, as her friends were doing. She wanted it so much she would dream about it sometimes, and then she would wake up with the skin at her wrists and neck red from the scratchy lace of the wedding gown she'd dreamed of wearing. But she'd never felt anything for the men she'd dated, nothing beyond her own desperation. And her desire to marry wasn't strong enough, would never be strong enough, to allow her to marry a man she didn't love.
This morning, Tegus welcomed me again with an arm clasp and cheek touch. I wasn't startled this time, and I breathed in at his neck. How can I describe the scent of his skin? He smells something like cinnamon-- brown and dry and sweet and warm. Ancestors, is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell?
I don't care about skin the color, everybody is a human being. Beneath every skin color, you bleed red. That's just the bottom line of the truth.
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