“I don’t like it when you use my shampoo, because then your hair smells like me, not you.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like Magnus.”

“I began to worship pubic hair, to touch it, to smell it, to lick it. This was when I came to realize that pubic hair wasn’t at all like the hair we had on our heads. No, pubic hair was tougher, coarse, and sharp. You could cut your tongue on it if you licked it too hard. The hair on our heads wasn’t just finer but also round, and our pubic hair was thicker and flat, and so this was why it could cut you if you weren’t careful.”

“He especially liked ads for shampoos and hair coloring. The women in them seemed to regard their hair as independent, capricious entities, whom they must placate and provide with food.”

“You smell like honeysuckle. You likin' ole Jack now?"

"I never stopped liking you. Even when you were warding me away with the power of Catholicism.”

“Your hair shines like gold, says my child.
You are pretty old, says my child.
And I think to myself how I used to be.
There's another wrinkle that I see.
Then he takes my hand and smiles at me.”

“Why you don't like to show your face? It's for the sake of mystery, or for shocking? — My hair is much better than me. I prefer to show it.”

“And quit baring your fangs at me. It's making me nervous."

"Good," Simon said. "if you want to know why, it's because you smell like blood."
"It's my cologne. Eau de Recent Injury." Jace raised his left hand.”

“I don’t like your hair black. (Artemis)
And I don’t like your head attached to your shoulders. Guess we can’t all have what we want, huh? (Acheron)”

“Everything I ever projected New York to be, it was—even the stinky, ratty, vomity part of it. Everybody has to do the subway. Everybody has to smell the same smells. And people get mad all the time. When people don’t like something, like ‘Get out of my way you blah, blah, blah.’ But [in L. A. ] it’s like, ‘How ya doing? Let’s do lunch! I love you!”