It feels good to think about you when I'm warm in bed. I feel as if you're curled up there beside me, fast asleep. And I think how great it would be if it were true.
A teenage girl lay asleep on the sofa, curled up under a red-and-black knitted afghan. She was on her side, with one slender arm cradling a throw cushion nestled under her head. Long wavy blond hair spread across her back and her shoulders like a cape. Even though she was sleeping, Alex could see how pretty she was, with her delicate, almost elfin features. He stood in the doorway, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest.
Live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world.
Some physicists describe gravity in terms of ten dimensions all curled up. But those aren't real words-just placeholders, used to refer to parts of abstract equations.
. . . that left Francesca to slink into the chair opposite us. My feeling of superiority was short-lived, however, when she settled herself down and then crossed her legs. I didn't need a mirror to know my whole face had just turned red. With a hemline up to her thighs that gesture didn't leave anything to the imagination. Bones curled his fingers around mine and squeezed. His hand was still warmed from our contact moments ago. That's how fast he had to grab me again to keep me sitting where I was instead of yanking off my jacket to make her a pair of panties.
That night, like every other night since I’d met her, I curled Grace into my arms, listening to her parents’ muffled movements in the living room. They were like busy little brainless birds, fluttering in and out of their nest at all hours of the day or night, so involved in the pleasure of nest building that they hadn’t noticed that it had been empty for years.
They took to silence. They touched each other without comment and without progression. A hand on a hand, a clothed arm, resting on an arm. An ankle overlapping an ankle, as they sat on a beach, and not removed. One night they fell asleep, side by side. . . He slept curled against her back, a dark comma against her pale elegant phrase.
Shrimps ought to stay small and curled up in their cocktail sauce, if you ask me.
Here you go, dear. "" The corners of Mrs. Colbert's mouth curled up. "You like meat, don't you?" Emily blinked. Was it her, or did that statement seem. . . loaded? She checked Issac for his reaction, but he was innocently selecting a roll from a wicker basket. "Uh, thanks. " Emily said, pulling the platter toward her. She did like meat. The kind you, um, eat.
Curled up in bed, I’m young in the old way.
Of course there were areas of safety; nothing could get at me if I curled up on my father's lap, holding his ear with one thumb tucked into it. . . All about him was safe.
I was a weird kid because I liked to be alone, but I craved attention. It was important for me to be cool, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut. So I was either talking for the sake of talking, or I was curled up with a book somewhere hiding from everyone.
There was sex, of course. Nakedness. Wall to wall, in and out of my thoughts. But when it was over it was her whispering voice I craved, and a human curled up in my arms.
I stayed there, curled up into the warmth of your body, under the blankets, like something soft in a shell. Your arms were firm as rock around me.
His songs were soon curled on the lips of the world, they had earned him the highest acclaim. And yet his greatest desire was the simple warmth of love's fire, cause it's cold on the dark side of fame.
[My advice] will one day be found With other relics of 'a former world,' When this world shall be former, underground, Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisped, and curled, Baked, fried or burnt, turned inside-out, or drowned, Like all the worlds before, which have been hurled First out of, and then back again to Chaos, The Superstratum which will overlay us.
He smiles in my memory. A curled lip. Straight teeth. Light in his eyes. Laughing, teasing, more alive in memory than I m in reality. It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.
I curled closer to May, comforted by her warmth.
Politeness, however, acts the lady's maid to our thoughts; and they are washed, dressed, curled, rouged, and perfumed, before they are presented to the public.
I don’t want to sleep alone,” she says gently. And I don’t force her to. Sarai falls fast asleep curled up next to me in my bed. Right where I want her.
