It's my red hair that interferes with my good sense. All that color so close to my brain, it plum disorients me most days.

You're not a woman," he said finally. "You're the Grim Reaper with red hair!

Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous.

When red-headed people are above a certain social grade their hair is auburn.

When I think back about my immediate reaction to that redheads girl, it seems to spring from an appreciation of natural beauty. I mean the heart pleasure you get from looking at speckled leaves or the palimpsested bark of plane trees in Provence. There was something richly appealing to her color combination, the ginger snaps floating in the milk-white skin, the golden highlights in the strawberry hair. it was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors.

You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair."
— Anne Shirley