Experience is a comb which fate gives to a man when his hair is all gone.
Related quotes
Experience is a comb that is given to you, when you have already lost you hair.
quote by Giorgos Zambetas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Comb Your Hair
Girl comb your hair
It can't be that bad
I had it worse
Don't look so sad No money in the bank
No car to drive
I had to walk
But I survived You'll see some laugh
You'll see some smile
Your day will come
Just wait a while No suit in the closet
No shoes on the rack
One dress on the hanger
But you'll be back Comb your hair
And wash your face
Dry your tears
Thank God for grace
poem by MBA Carrie May Bennett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silently She's Combing
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
poem by James Joyce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Face Smiles Back Easily - Hundred Mile High City B-side
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops and your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
And by the way your eyes are shining through
Theres nothing to do but wake up in light
And like the way your eyes they shine with the sun
And lighten everyone who wakes up in time to see
The face smiled back easily
I know well always be there
By the look, by the book
And your troops as your devil may care
I know well always be there
I know well always be there
Its not the way that you look
Or the way that you comb your hair
I know well always be there (x3)
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hairbrush
how i wish my fingers were the bristles
or my breath were the wind when it whistles
thru your hair, thru your hair
i wish you'd hold me in your hands
and let me skate thru all the strands
of your hair, of your hair
i could style it anyway you like it
i could brush it straight or even spike it
au contraire! au contraire!
or i would wait patiently in my box
until next i would comb the locks
of your hair, of your hair
i would braid it tight, tousle, and tease!
or pull it back in a ponytail, if you please;
if you dare, if you dare
how often is it a man confesses
that he wish to run barefoot thru the tresses
of your hair, of your hair?
you may think me a little touch'd
but can i tell you just how much
i hate your hairbrush?
this obsession may be zealous
but can i tell you just how jealous
i am of your hairbrush? !
poem by Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The way your little finger moved
AH, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God--that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Combing My Hair
Now people always come around
But they don't always stick around
I run a comb across my head
I wish my hair would settle down
The clock I see is running slow
The batteries are running low
I run a comb across my head
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another first footer across my door
And little less care (hair?) than I had last year
But it doesn't worry me because I
I have no fear
Here
The car I see is painted black
I'm steering (staring) at the driver's back
He runs a comb across his head
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another fresh fare across his door
And little less care than he had last year
But it doesn't worry him because he
He has no fear
Here, here
Now people always come around
But they don't always stick around
They run a comb across your head
I wish my hair would settle down
The clock I see is running slow
We've only got three years to go
We run our combs across our heads
And it feels the same like it did before
You're just another first footer across the door
And little less care than we took last year
But it doesn't worry us because we
We have no fear
Here
Have we
We have no fear
Have we
We have no fear
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The barbar down the lane
Most time as much a scissor talk
Call for long legs and hair walk
A thing that happens all the time
To every pocket that has least a dim
The man change a hair one
With smile and happiness morning in line
A hair enters and 'voom' disappears
The man inside with hair on repairs
Our barbar down the lane
Is a man with no shame
My hair I dedicate to him
And mine is down with all vim
The everday I wish to enter
And embrass the comb in my hair
This then I know it him
The barbar down the lane
poem by Henry Nii Ayi Cobblah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
With a wide tooth comb,
Unravel knots from wet hair;
Else hair breaks and falls.
haiku by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Experience is a comb which nature gives to men when they are bald.
Experience is the comb that nature gives us when we are bald.
Experience is like a comb that life gives you when you are bald.
quote by Navjot Singh Sidhu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hair Styles I Remember
There are hairstyles I remember wearing
oh so long ago.
My father had a fit with most of them
told me, 'go comb that mess out before you go! '
I'd rat it up with the small toothed end of comb
so the base would hold it up.
Then took a brush to smooth it some
and then I sprayed it so it stuck!
The wind could blow its hardest
but my hair withstood its gail!
When anyone would touch my do
they said it felt as hard as nails!
There was one do called the, Bee Hive
It was hallowed out in the center.
Some gilrs would hide their smokes in there
and have a puff or two after schools dinner.
Then there was the bouffant flip
it was the smallest flip you'd ever seen.
Your head looked like this big balloon
with a small hat rim of hair flipping up, was keen!
Then the Pixie and the Bob
boxed off hair cut for cool guys
long hair for the slobs!
Then the Beatles made their hair debut
my father hated them.
Everyone wore the Nauru jackets
and their pant legs tight and slim!
Then Farra Faucet, that's a funny name
but her hairstyle look, was in the hair book hall of fame!
Not too many new looks I see now a days
just long or short, no curls, no waves.
No teasing of hair, no spray or thick gels
But highlights for sure, all look swell.
I'm glad those days are over with
took forever for you to get ready.
Now it's just blow and go, and sprits or two
and your off on a date with your steady!
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mermaid
I
Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?
II
I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb'd I would sing and say,
'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?'
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall
Low adown, low adown,
From under my starry sea-bud crown
Low adown and around,
And I should look like a fountain of gold
Springing alone
With a shrill inner sound
Over the throne
In the midst of the hall;
Till that great sea-snake under the sea
From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate
With his large calm eyes for the love of me.
And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.
III
But at night I would wander away, away,
I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks,
And lightly vault from the throne and play
With the mermen in and out of the rocks;
We would run to and fro, and hide and seek,
On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells,
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.
But if any came near I would call and shriek,
And adown the steep like a wave I would leap
From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells;
For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list
Of the bold merry mermen under the sea.
They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me,
In the purple twilights under the sea;
But the king of them all would carry me,
Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea.
Then all the dry-pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned, and soft
Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea,
All looking down for the love of me.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lend Me Your Comb
Lend me your comb,
It's time to go home.
I got to go past,
My hair is a mess
Your mammie will scold,
Your pappie will shout.
Unless we come in
The way we went out.
Kissing you was fun honey
But thanks for the date.
But i must come to run honey,
But you know baby it's getting late.
Just wait till i say:
My darling,
Lend me your comb.
We got to go home.
Kissing you was fun honey
But thanks for the date.
But i must come to run, honey.
But sugar, it's getting late.
Just wait till i
Say: my darling,
Lend me your comb.
We got to go home.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Not what we experience, but how we perceive what we experience, determines our fate.
quote by Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Death’s Anger
Death creates anger to some who think it,
It married your flesh to your eternal spirit.
Life carries my burden as long as I comb
The hair of breath and breadth, under the dome.
May the angels of death cause our bereavement
When it happens, an event of the soul, the achievement.
Let anger make you strong, fatality comes,
Towards our star departs our Fate, it benumbs.
The premises so attached to me and my body
Are linked to the mind if it rests, becomes droopy.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I used to comb my hair back and do stupid stuff.
quote by Shane West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!