H. B. Marriott Watson

“ Her hair caresses her; it runs in a company of myriads, it curves in innumerable tiny arcs, it droops in a multitude of intertwined festoons; it rises in slow curls, it falls in minute and tremulous cascades ”

“ At such a time it wakes into life and blows to the air. It is as vital then as the gay features of her face; at each breath it swerves, and it tosses; it riots with the wind; it runs atremble down the breezes. It keeps high holiday against heaven, and leaps, a merry frolic, to the sky. ”

“ Years shall not touch it, nor filch any fragrance from those coils. In the face of Death shall this fine grace be left her: change shall bereave her of her eloquent form; the eyes shall narrow and grow dim ”

“ Of themselves the tresses of a woman's hair discover no particular charm, but may be simulated in a score of factories. There is, to be sure, a certain distinction in colours, as there are also degrees of fineness and variations of abundance; but properties of this sort away from the human subject are ineloquent and ineffectual. Were it not for her own rare beauty and the individual framework of her sex, I fear Neæra's hair would be of little moment in my life ”

“ I can hardly imagine there is one freer than herself to the mercy of tempestuous and aëry humours. I suppose she is more supremely sensitive to her own thoughts than any of her sex since Eve: the slightest flutter of her heart flashes on the instant in her eyes, and thrills through her delicate flesh. ”