“To-night she will spread her brown hair on his pillow,
But I shall be hearing the harsh cries of wild fowl.”

“Pavlov's Daughter,
woke up in the morning,
hear the bell ring,
and something deep inside of her,
makes her want to salivate,
so she lays there drooling on her pillow…”

“I was with this girl the other night and from the way she was responding to my skillful caresses, you would have sworn that she was… conscious. … But I love her from the hair on her head to the tag on her toes.”

“When I created Quirke, he was 6ft 6in and blond. But then a woman reader wrote to me and said, 'Why do you keep saying his hair is blond? It's not. It's brown.' I wrote back to her and told her that, of course, she was right. So I darkened his hair and now that he's being played by Gabriel Byrne; with each successive book he gets a bit smaller and smaller.”

“Even in that pale light I could see that she was more beautiful than ever, the black shadow of her hair framing a face I had seen every night in the misery of sleep for so long. Those deep brown eyes still had that hungry look when they watched mine and the lush fullness of her mouth glistened with a damp warmth of invitation.”

“She saw in his eyes defeat of her wild dreams, her mad desires.”

“Her father sagged as relief spread through him. “I thought
something awful was happening.”
She frowned. “Something awful was happening. It could have
got stuck in my hair.”

“I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful — a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.”

“Again she plunges! hark! a second shock
Bilges the splitting vessel on the rock;
Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries,
The fated victims shuddering cast their eyes
In wild despair; while yet another stroke
With strong convulsion rends the solid oak:
Ah Heaven!—behold her crashing ribs divide!
She loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o'er the tide.”

“I hear her hair has turned quite gold from grief”