Bent Over Quotes & Sayings

Without fail, every cartoonist that I asked advice from bent over backward to be helpful and encouraging. It took many forms: some of it was just an implicit acceptance, like being invited along to the dinner with all of the good cartoonists, or sitting down at a drafting table with an artist and him showing me how to draw backgrounds and perspectives. — Adrian Tomine

There they were, the movers and shakers of Benjamin Franklin Hight - the sports stars, the cheerleaders, the good, the great, the gorgeous - bent over their pizzas.
Trish sensed my angst and said, "My mother says girls like Lisa Shooty get the ultimate curse known to man."
"What's that?"
"Too much too soon."
I looked at poor, cursed Lisa who had been sprayed with sex appeal at birth. She had gleaming teeth and long, raven-black curls. She threw back her head and laughed with diamond-studded joy.
"When do you think the curse takes effect?" I asked.
"Not in our lifetime," Trish answered. — Joan Bauer

Morals are meant to be shared." He held me away for another moment, reading, then grinned and handed me the book. "I like this one."
... "It's better to love people than wealth. I love Dad, Mom, Kendall, Sandra, Nick, baby Stetson, and especially Hudson. I wouldn't trade them for a mountain of gold."
"I love the word 'especially,'" he said. "And I love the person who wrote it." Then he bent over to kiss me. — Janette Rallison

Buffon said unreservedly, "Genius is simply patience carried to the extreme." To those who asked how he achieved fame he replied: "By spending forty years of my life bent over my writing desk." — Santiago Ramon Y Cajal

Horeb bent over me and ran his hand down my neck, not stopping when his fingers reached my chest.
I jerked backward. "What are you doing?"
His eyes were black and intense. "A little taste before the wedding, Jayden? — Kimberley Griffiths Little

Everything Tolstoy wrote is precious, but I found this final statement of the truth about life as he had come to understand it particularly beautiful and moving. 'That is what I have wanted to say to you, my brothers. Before I died.' So he concludes, giving one a vivid sense of the old man, pen in hand and bent over the paper, his forehead wrinkled into a look of puzzlement very characteristic of him, as though he were perpetually wondering how others could fail to see what was to him so clear - that the law of love explained all mysteries and invalidated all other laws. — Malcolm Muggeridge

I bent over him and, before I could say anything, he grabbed me by the back of my head, dragged my mouth down and kissed me. Kissed me, with no drama and no explanation, like it was just something we did.
Knowing in a half-forgotten way that he kissed like a demon was one thing; experiencing it all over again was quite another. There was no refined seduction- Pritkin kissed openmouthed, hard and hungry, until I could hear nothing over the pounding of my heart, until I could taste my blood on his lips as his tongue thrust into me. — Karen Chance

I promise I don't bite." He winked at her.

That earned him another throaty laugh. Then she bent over him, hands braced on his thighs, her luscious mouth inches from his. The heat of her palms singed his skin even through his jeans. Her warm breaths puffed against his lips as she stared him dead in the eye. "What if I do? — J.M. Stewart

Bent double, groaning with the weight, an old lame Indian was carrying on his back, by means of a strap looped over his forehead, another poor Indian, yet older and more decrepit than himself. He carried the older man and his crutches, trembling in every limb under this weight of the past, he carried both their burdens. — Malcolm Lowry

The only hero she had known was a Viking whose story she had read as a child; a Viking whose eyes never looked farther than the point of his sword, but there was no boundary for the point of his sword; a Viking who walked through life, breaking barriers and reaping victories, who walked through ruins while the sun made a crown over his head, but he walked, light and straight, without noticing its weight; a Viking who laughed at kings, who laughed at priests, who looked at heaven only when he bent for a drink over a mountain brook and there, over-shadowing the sky, he saw his own picture; a Viking who lived but for the joy and the wonder and the glory of the god that was himself. — Ayn Rand

Two free days like an open mouth. They drank beer all day in the sun and passed out, and when she woke, she was burnt all over, and it was sunset, and Lotto had started building something enormous with sand, already four feet high and ten feet long and pointing toward the sea. Woozy, standing, she asked what it was.
He said, 'spiral jetty.'
She said, 'In sand?'
He smiled and said, 'That's its beauty.'
A moment in her bursting open, expanding. She looked at him. She hand't seen it before, but there was something special here. She wanted to tunnel inside him to understand what it was. There was a light under the shyness and youth, a sweetness, a sudden surge of the old hunger in her to take a part of him into her and make him briefly hers.
Instead, she bent and helped, they all did. And deep into the morning, when it was done, they sat in silence, huddled against the cold wind and watched the tide swallow it whole. Everything had changed somehow — Lauren Groff

It feels like we've grown enough as musicians over the last few years to go new places, and our conceptual and compositional abilities have developed along with it, so we're pushing all the envelopes we can at the same time and it still feels like cutting edge work to us. It seems to resonate with people. — Bent Saether

Without another word, we began to eat. I was hungry, but no appetite would excuse the way we set upon those dishes. We shoveled food into our mouths in a manner ill befitting our fine attire. Bears would have blushed to see us bent over our plates. The pheasant, still steaming from the oven, its dark flesh redolent with the mushroom musk of the forest floor, was gnawed quickly to the bone. It was a touch gamy - no milk-fed goose, this - but it was tender, and the piquant hominy balanced that wild taste as I had hoped it would. The eggs, laced pink at the edges and floating delicately in a carnal sauce, were gulped down in two bites. The yolks were cooked to that rare liminal degree, no longer liquid but not yet solid, like the formative moment of a sun-colored gem. — Eli Brown

Once I saw torches with dancing flames of scarlet and radiant gold held by solemn apes. A man with the horns and muzzled face of a bull bent over me, a constellation sprung to life. I spoke to him and found myself telling him that I was unsure of the precise date of my birth, that if his benign spirit of meadow and unfeigning force had governed my life I thanked him for it; then remembered that I knew the date, that my father had given a ball for me each year until his death, that it fell under the Swan. He listened intently, turning his head to watch me from one brown eye. — Gene Wolfe

The Hum-bird paused, a long needle sliding out of the hole in its beak. It bent quickly, poking the needle into Scarlett's face. Its head popped back up and then repeated the motion in three more spots on the Jordan's face before hopping to the other side and starting over.

It hopped back and forth a few more times, pausing now and then with its injector, plumping skin and filling the fine lines in Scarlett's face. After examining its works, the needle withdrew and another one protruded, glistening pink in the dimmed light. This time the Hum-bird hopped around, paralyzing any damaging nerve clusters that over time would be bound to cause wrinkles in the skin. — April Adams

Our group pressed west on what was left of Highway 93, toward the pass leading to Las Vegas. Sand covered the road in loose drifts so deep the horses' hooves sank into them. The metal highway signs were bent low by the strong wind, and above us, billboards that once screamed ads for the casinos were now stripped of their promises of penny slots and large jackpots. The raw boards underneath were exposed, like showgirls without their makeup. Some signs had been blown over completely and lay half-buried under mounds of sand, like sleeping animals.
Cars dotted the highway, their paint scoured off and dead tumbleweeds caught underneath them. Their windows were fogged with death, and despite my effort not to look, my eyes were drawn to the blurred images of the still forms inside. I tried to concentrate on the dark road ahead of us instead. — Kirby Howell

Daffy bent down suddenly, and picked a small startled white flower. "Anemone," he said, handing it over; he made her repeat the word until she had it right. "Find me a silk to match that. — Emma Donoghue

Yeah, you do. Because right now, I'm your best hope to defeat Byzamoth. So if you don't want to spend eternity bent over and holding your ankles for him, you'll back the fuck off.


~Wraith — Larissa Ione

At some point Zania nods off, still bent over, and her head ends up on Kope's thigh. Hahahaha, the bloke is frozen as stone, trying not to be affected. — Wendy Higgins

No beautiful, I'm not seeing anyone. I've been real focused myself. But I'm not foolish enough to let you get by. Even if I have to go through two over-protective dads," Genesis answered. "So. I've got to get back on the road, but I'll see you next weekend. Friday night eight o'clock sharp. And trust me, I won't be late." Genesis bent and kissed Curtis on his cheek. Curtis blushed terribly in front of everyone. This was so ridiculous, they had absolutely no privacy. Genesis gave him another wink before he released his hand and turned to walk up the stairs. His dads walked over to him and Ruxs handed him his suit jacket. He snatched it out his dad's hand and turned to walk out the front door. "Have fun dads." Curtis could hear Day's laugh after his comment, along with the other men, as he walked angrily up the driveway to their car. His dads had made a circus act out of a very nice moment he'd shared with a really great guy. — A.E. Via

You've been through my stuff. I bent over and let one of you stick the world's longest finger up my ass. If a prostate check is an exam, that was a motherfucking safari. I was scared to look down. I thought I'd see that guy's fingernail sticking out of my cock. — Stephen King

And you, Edward? Is there something in this world for which you'd surrender your life and your soul, if need be? You need not answer - I saw in your face and in your heart, last night, as you bent over the bed. Good art, good art - both of you. I have found several sorts of good and original art in this world, enough to justify encouraging your Artist to try again. But there was so much that was bad, poorly drawn and amateurish, that I could not find it in me to approve the work as a whole until I encountered and savored this, the tragedy of human love." Cynthia looked at him wildly. "Tragedy? you say 'tragedy'?" He looked at her with eyes that were not pitying, but serenely appreciative. "What else could it be, my dear? — Robert A. Heinlein

Today at the Melchor market, a fantastical sight. A servant girl with a birdcage on her back, full of birds. She wore her blue shawl wrapped around the cage and tied in front to hold it. The willow cage must have been very light because she was not bent over, yet it towered over her head, with turrets like a Japanese pagoda. And full of birds: green and yellow, flapping about like dreams trying to escape from a skull. — Barbara Kingsolver

It's open!" Zane called, expecting Sidewinder and an amused FBI agent or three.
But it was just Kelly, and he had a hand slapped over his eyes. He took a tentative step into the cabin, then tossed a handful of medical supplies on the bed and retreated without ever saying a word. Ty and Zane stared at the supplies as the door shut. They included a flexible wrap, some popsicle sticks, one length of metal that could be bent and molded, and a little tube of lubricant.
"Asshole!" Ty called after Kelly.
"You're welcome! — Abigail Roux

He knelt by the bed and bent over her, draining their last moment to its lees; and in the silence there passed between them the word which made all clear. — Edith Wharton

Lying in their field above the sea, watching the sun go down and the darkness creep over the field so that they were wrapped together in shadow. Will propped himself on one elbow beside her, is finger curling strands of her dark hair until it was bound so tight it pulled her scalp and she cried out, and then he bent over her, kissed her, so,so tenderly, and she thought she would die with happiness. They had made love, the very first time. — Julia Green

Slowly, slowly, with a drugged, fathomless calm, Henry bent and picked up a handful of dirt. He held it over the grave and let it trickle from his fingers. Then, with terrible composure, he stepped back and absently dragged the hand across his chest, smearing mud upon his lapel, his tie, the starched immaculate white of his shirt.
I stared at him. So did Julian, and Francis, and the twins, with a kind of shocked horror. He seemed not to realise he had done anything out of the ordinary. He stood there perfectly still, the wind ruffling his hair and the dull light glinting from the rims of his glasses. — Donna Tartt

A piano tuner used to come over to our house when I was young. He was a blind man, his eyes burnt-out holes in his head, his body all bent. I remember how strange he looked against the grandeur of our lives, how he stooped over that massive multitoothed instrument and tweaked its tones. The piano never looked any different after he'd worked on it, but when I pressed a C key or the black bar of an F minor, the note sprung out richer, as though chocolate and spices had been added to a flat sound. This was what was different. It was as though I'd been visited by a blind piano tuner who had crept into my apartment at night, who had tweaked the ivory bones of my body, the taut strings in my skull, and now, when I pressed on myself, the same notes but with a mellower, fuller sound sprang out. — Lauren Slater

The secret island had looked mysterious enough on the night they had seen it before - but now, swimming in the hot June haze, it seemed more enchanting than ever. As they drew near to it, and saw the willow trees that bent over the water-edge and heard the sharp call of moorhens that scuttled off, the children gazed in delight. Nothing but trees and birds and little wild animals. Oh, what a secret island, all for their very own, to live on and play on. — Enid Blyton

Sometimes during the night, your father awakened. He rose from his bed, staggered across the room, and found the strength to raise the window sash. He called your mother's name with what little voice he had, and he called yours, too, and your brother, Joe. And he called for Mickey. At that moment, it seemed, his heart was spilling out, all the guilt and regret. Perhaps he felt the light of death approaching. Perhaps he only knew you were all out there somewhere, in the streets beneath his window. He bent over the ledge. The night was chilly. The wind and damp, in his state, were too much. He was dead before dawn. — Mitch Albom

And his simple bravery, his quiet pride, finally broke her. She let the cloth slip from her fingers and bent down to kiss him. His reaction was immediate and decided. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap, forcing her to straddle his legs. He cradled the back of her head in the spread of his fingers, angled his head for a better fit, and opened his mouth over hers. And, oh, the man knew how to kiss. — Elizabeth Hoyt

An unemployed electrician,whom I had been taunting with my reminder of how much richer I was, leaned forward and said:'What are your qualifications? I know exactly what your qualifications are.You bent over in the shower to pick up some soap at Eton and Harrow, like all the rest of them. — Auberon Waugh

The heavy eyelids snapped open. Jack froze.
A huge gold-and-amber eye, as big as a dinner plater, stared at him. The dark pupil shrank, focusing.
Jack stood very still.
The colossal head turned, the scaled lip only three feet from Jack. The golden eyes gazed at him, wirling with fiery color.
Jack breathed in tiny, shallow breaths.
Dont blink. Don't blink ...
Two gusts of wind erutped from the wyvern's nostrils Jack jumped straight up, bounced off the ground into another jump, and scrambled up the nearest tree.
In the clearing, Gaston bent over, guffawing like an idiot.
'It's not funny! — Ilona Andrews

He bent over Farid and wiped some soot from his cold forehead. "Roxanne knows it," he said. "She'll tell it to you. Just go to her and ... and tell her I've had to go away. Tell her I'm going to find out if the story is true."
He spoke with a strange kind of hesitation, as if it were infinitely difficult to find the right words. "And remind her of my promise - that I'll always find a way back to her, wherever I am. Will you tell her that? — Cornelia Funke

His tender tone turned her heart over. She obliged, tilting her head back slightly and looking up at him in the firelit darkness. When he bent his head and his mouth met hers, she gave a little sigh, her lips parting slightly in surprise and expectation. He kissed her with the same sure decisiveness with which he did everything else, his mouth trailing to her cheek and chin and ear, returning again and again to her mouth and lingering there, his breath mingling with her own.
She felt adrift in small, sharp bursts of pleasure. Was this how a man was suppose to kiss a woman? Tenderly ... firmly ... repeatedly? His fingers fanned through her hair till the pins gave way and wayward locks spilled like black ribbon to the small of her back. In answer, her arms circled his neck, bringing him nearer, every kiss sweeter and surer than the one before. Soon they were lost in a haze of sighs and murmurs and caresses. — Laura Frantz

It is possible to eat English piecrust, whatever you may think at first. The English eat it, and when they stand up and walk away, they are hardly bent over at all. — Margaret Halsey

I started crying when the group [therapy] was over because the last thing we did upset me - we all held a piece of the same cloth, leaned back and supported each other's weight. I couldn't do it. I bent my legs and elbows and stood very firm, yet . . .
I needed to feel supported, as i do in life, but i can't let myself be, and i pretend not to need that support. — Carol Lee

McGovern is very sensitive about this sort of thing, and for excellent reason. In three of the last four big primaries (Ohio, Nebraska & California) he has spent an alarmingly big chunk of his campaign time denying that behind his calm and decent facade he is really a sort of Trojan Horse candidate - coming on in public as a bucolic Jeffersonian Democrat while secretly plotting to seize the reins of power and turn them over at midnight on Inauguration Day to a Red-bent hellbroth of radicals, Dopers, Traitors, Sex Fiends, Anarchists, Winos, and "extremists" of every description. — Hunter S. Thompson

This was to be my last trip. Sailing great distances was dangerous, and not very profitable in today's world. I walked down the worn wooden step to the captain's cabin, the creaking of the ship keeping time with my steps. Opening the door I found him bent over an old map.
"Where are we captain?" I asked, hoping it was close to home.
"See this spot, where it says "Here there be monsters"?" he said pointing to an image of a horrid beast.
"Certainly, but you and I both know such creatures don't exist!!"
The captain laughed, and looking up at me with an evil glint in his eye said, "Who's talking about sea monsters?". As he spoke the skin from one corner of his mouth fell loose, exposing a yellow reptilian skin beneath.
"What?" I yelled, and as I turned to run for the cabin door I heard screams and loud moans coming from the deck, and the crew quarters below.
I felt fetid breath on the back of my neck, "Aye matey, here there be monsters — Neil Leckman

A pastor who lived through the Third Reich described his meetings with Nazi officials in a way that illuminates life in totalitarian societies: "[O]ne would be pushed further, step by step, until he had crossed over the line, without noticing that his spine was being bent millimeter by millimeter. — Randall L. Bytwerk

She bent her head over the flowers. He knew she was not beautiful. He knew she did not see herself as the object of a man's lust. He knew if he told her he found her desirable, she'd not understand his meaning. She'd think he meant something other than marriage. In that, she would be right, but a man could want both things from the same woman. — Carolyn Jewel

I don't know why people get so bent out of shape over stuff people say. — Larry The Cable Guy

A tiny smile played over his lips as he glanced down at my hand. "Do you mean to win me over with feminine wiles? I must admit it is a more diverting notion than your usual method of screaming at me like a fishwife."
I did not rise to the bait. I simply looked at him. "Please."
He caught his breath, a slow smile warming his features. "My god, you are trying to seduce me."
"I am not." I said primly. "I am merely trying to get your attention."
He bent swiftly and kissed me hard, pulling back so suddenly I nearly toppled over. "I believe I have already made it quite clear you have my attention. — Deanna Raybourn

I slipped into the music room and, with my backpack still in my lap like a shield. I took a seat at a piano old enough to have been carried over the ark. The room was small, quiet.
A sanctuary.
It was always this way for me. Teh stored instruments in the closets called out like old friends. The bent and scratched black music stands welcomed me to thier home. The oily smell, a perfume. It was like ... church. — Jenny B. Jones

I saw Diana shake her head, "Jonathon, we're here for you. Stop being a butt head."
We all started laughing. I was bent over at the waist with tears running out of my eyes.
Mason said, "Did you seriously just say 'butt head'?"
Diana blushed, "Well, he was being a butt head. — Micalea Smeltzer

driver's side opened, and someone got in and sat down. He didn't turn to see who it was, because by this point he was unable to take his eyes off the hospital entrance. "I went to Marinella to look for you," said Fazio, "but you weren't there. Then I realized you'd be here, and so I came." Montalbano didn't answer. Half an hour later, he saw Garrufo come out, bent over, face in his hands, weeping. "Take me home," he said to Fazio. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, at last. Click here for more books by this author. — Andrea Camilleri

There was something about the possession of a book that was important to me. Owning it gave me proprietary rights on the story. It meant that I could read as quickly or as slowly as I liked. No expectations, no deadlines, no proscriptions on bent spines or crumpled pages. I was not gentle on my books. I read while I ate, I read in the bathtub. At night, I rolled over on top of my books that had fallen between the covers as I dozed. For me, the worn pages and tattered covers were a sign of devotion. Like the Velveteen Rabbit, the books I read were only real when they were loved. And I understood that love was not always gentle. — Georgia Bell

Nobody reads poetry anymore
So who the hell are you
I see bent over this book? — Aleksandar Ristovic

I nodded to Sam. "I'll just clean up these boxes and meet you out on the floor." Macy's didn't mess around their shoe department in New York. It spanned two floors, and it was always busy.
"Okay," she relented. "If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming back to find you."
"Got it. I was relieved when she finally walked out of the stock room. I wanted to forget this craziness had ever occurred.
Tom bent over to help me as I gathered up the errant shoes. "Dude," he said, "can I touch your arm? I've never touched anyone who's died before. — Amanda Carlson

It was while bent over, trying to breathe through the pain of bruised ribs, with the sensation of spit running down his cheek that Jason decided he was going to die. — Paul W.S. Bowler

Could I - could I say good-bye to him, sir? asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog. — J.K. Rowling

Squaring her shoulders after Permilia disappeared into the crowd, Wilhelmina began skating in Edgar's direction. Coming to a stop a few feet away from him, she smiled when he looked up. That smile, unfortunately, turned to a wince a mere second later, when he tried to get to his feet and immediately took to flailing about. Before she could do more than blink, he was sprawled facedown on the ice. Skating up next to him, she bent over. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine - well, except for my bruised pride," he said, rolling over before he struggled to a sitting position. "One would think that since I'm testing skates with two blades, I'd have an easier time of staying upright. But . . . I'm afraid that has not been the case." He caught her eye again and smiled. — Jen Turano

Hey." Shane's hip nudged her chair, and he bent over, putting his mouth very close to her ear.
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
"Stop."
"Stop thinking?"
"You're doing way too much of it. It'll make you go blind."
She laughed and turned her face toward his. "I think you're thinking of something else. — Rachel Caine

The vision of a champion is someone who is bent over, drenched in sweat, at the point of exhaustion when no one else is watching. — Jim Afremow

I picked up the butter-soft suede shirt and slacks and held them toward Martucci, but he bent over, grabbing at his stomach, and made it into the dark little cubicle in time to vomit into the toilet. He ran the small trickle of water in the sink over his hands, dabbed water on his face, then blotted himself on the rough paper towels. Within the next five minutes, he was dressed and deposited in the rear seat of my car between Haley and Finn. Vito, who had scared the living hell out of the hustler before giving him a kick in the ass out the hotel's side door, sat next to me as I drove. Vito was breathing heavily; it was the only sound in the car. — Dorothy Uhnak

Gravity is so strong that space is bent round onto itself, making it rather like the surface of the earth. If one keeps traveling in a certain direction on the surface of the earth, one never comes up against an impassable barrier or falls over the edge, but eventually comes back to where one started. — Stephen Hawking

American officials have bent over backwards to show how sensitive they are to Muslim culture. It didn't seem very effective. They seem to be worried about winning the respect of other people. — Tucker Carlson

He bent his face into the curve of my neck. "We don't deserve anything Rowen. We don't deserve punishment, we don't deserve happiness, life owes us nothing. Realize that." His voice wasn't gentle anymore; it was as strong as I'd ever heard it. "So we have to take what we want because life sure as shit isn't going to freely hand it over." He kissed the skin just above my collar bone. "And I want you. — Nicole Williams

He gave me a look, but in the dusk I couldn't make out very well what it conveyed. Then he bent over his mother, kissing her. "My news isn't particularly satisfactory. I'm going for you." "Oh you humbug!" she replied. But she was of course delighted. CHAPTER — Henry James

I'd still be nice to you if you were ugly."
"Okay."
A wicked grin slipped over his full lips. He bent his head down and whispered, "I just wouldn't offer you any cookies. — J. Lynn

He bent and whispered against her ear. "Stay close, Erienne. The towel has come loose. If you step away, it is at your own risk."
Clenching her eyes tightly shut, she buried her face against his shoulder to hide the crimson tides that swept over her and clung to him with a panic born of desperation.
Unable to see his face, she missed the smile that widened his lips.
-Christopher & Erienne — Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

A shapeless figure bent over him, he smelt the fresh leather of the revolver belt; but what insignia did the figure wear on the sleeves and shoulder straps of its uniform - and in whose name did it raise the dark pistol barrel?

A second, smashing blow hit him on the ear. Then all became quiet. There was the sea again with its sounds. A wave slowly lifted him up. It came from afar and travelled sedately on, a shrug of eternity. — Arthur Koestler

First, I spit out a mouthful of dirt. Then, I screamed at the sky. "That's it! I've had it! Everything is trying to kill me! All I did was make one stupid wish. Aladdin made three. I'm the hero of this story, so where's my happy ending, already? It's not fair."

Rexi bent over, trying to catch her breath. "You know what's not fair? Spending Muse Day as a toad just because the kitchen ran out of frog legs. Or being volunteered for this little journey. So build a bridge, then make like a billy goat and get over it already because no one is listening. — Betsy Schow

Echo bent over the table to make her second shot. Her beautiful breasts were right there for me to see, but i wanted to do more than observe, i wanted to ...
"You should put your tongue back in your mouth. You 'll get all cotton-mouthed if it dries out."
"I can't help it you 're hot." I loved it when she dished it out. — Katie McGarry

Blaise decided that the thing he would remember most about this London was the sour stink of it. The overripe foulness of the streets made him gag, and when a woman emptied a chamber pot from a top window, nearly catching him in its spray, he bent over and wretched, much to the Nightsneaks' amusement. — Teresa Flavin

I tried to smile back, but I was trying not to stare at the ribbon of skin that was showing beneath his T-shirt as he bent over. As usual, my mouth went a little dry and my breathing sped up, and that weird, almost sad feeling settled in my stomach. I never thought I'd be glad to hear Vandy's braying voice, but when she shouted, 'All right! That's it for today!' I could have kissed her.
Well, on second thought, no. Maybe a firm handshake. — Rachel Hawkins

With his wife's imperious face peering down at him, Lord Maccon took a moment to wonder why he had thought to crave such a woman in his life. Alexia bent over and nibbled at his chest. Ah, yes, initiative and ingenuity. — Gail Carriger

I never told anyone about waking in the night to him standing over me with a knife. It was small, one of my switchblades, chosen for carving.
His seeping dick twitched as he bent toward me, his slick left hand went down on my sternum, the other holding the knife like a scapel.
"What're you gonna do?" I asked, reaching for him, my fingers closing around his hard, wet length.
"Carve my name on your skin so everyone knows you're mine. — Mary Calmes

Do you conceive of your Lord as less because? He shows that humiliation is the best road to exaltation (cf. Mt. 23:12); because He humbles Himself for the sake of the soul that is bent down to the ground, that He may even exalt within Himself that which is bent double under a weight of sin? ... If so, you must blame the physician for stooping over suffering and putting up with evil smells in order to give health to the sick? — Gregory Of Nazianzus

There were tears in the eye of the gentle girl, as these words were spoken; and when one fell upon the flower over which she bent, and glistened brightly in its cup, making it more beautiful, it seemed as though the outpouring of her fresh young heart, claimed kindred with the loveliest things in nature. — Charles Dickens

When his hand came down across my bottom the first time I thought I was going to die. But the pain passed, transmuted as if my some alchemical wizardry, and for a moment I experienced a surreal satisfaction in being bent over in this way without rights or choices, past or future. In pain you are living in the present and as the pain passes there is pleasure from having endured the pain. — Chloe Thurlow

There is a lot of talk about "rigged games" as of late. Big government is the most insipid of all "rigged games". There is no choice available to the public allowing it to avoid a big over-arching government. You can always chose not do business with a big corporation. Corporations that are distasteful can be avoided. A big, powerful, government bent on intrusion cannot be avoided. — A.E. Samaan

The other day I got out the shower and I bend down to reach for a towel, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Shot through my chest and up around my shoulder and down my spine. I thought 'Oh, Lord.' I thought I was dying. I bent over and looked, and I was standing on my own titty. — Eddie Murphy

I wove my way between the tables, pulling my hair forward over my shoulders as I went.Alex was still sitting when I reached him.
"Hey.This was on the floor in the upstairs hall ... "
I stood behind his chair. Completely frozen.
I might have stood there for a very long time if he hadn't pushed himself away from the table to get up. The chair thumped me in the stomach first, then in the knees.I think I made a noise. I dropped his book.
"Oh.Oh,crap.I'm really sorry!" Alex jerked the chair out of the way and bent down a little. He had to, to see my face. "You okay?"
I did manage to nod.
"Seriously.I must have really pounded you there.You sure you're all right?"
"Yes,fine," I whispered.
Across the table, Chase Vere laughed. "Dude, she was,like, standing right behind you. — Melissa Jensen

He found his voice first, though it was a ragged whisper, "Thank you." If I'd had enough breath I'd have laughed. My throat was so dry, that my voice sounded stiff. "Trust me on this, Frost, it was my pleasure." He bent over and laid a kiss on my cheek. "I will try to do better next time." He moved his hands away from me, letting me move, but stayed sheathed inside me as if he were reluctant to let that go. I looked at him, thinking he was joking, but his face was utterly serious. "It gets better than this?" I asked. He nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes." "The queen was a fool," I said softly. He smiled then. "I always thought so. — Laurell K. Hamilton

On bad days the orange walls held hands and bent over him, inspecting him, like malevolent doctors, slowly, deliberately, squeezing the breath out of him and making him scream. Sometimes they receded of their own accord, and the room he lay in grew impossibly large, terrorizing him with the specter of his own insignificance. That too made him cry out. — Arundhati Roy

You are luck our baby is coming down those stairs. Because if he wasn't, I would have you bent over this sink, tearing you apart to the point where you wouldn't even be able to walk tomorrow. — Toni Aleo

Buster went bananas, running over to Paci and jumping up on his legs, begging for attention. Paci didn't disappoint him, either. He bent down and baby-talked with Buster, like he was an old hand at it.
I smiled in amusement. Paci was no wimp. He was almost as big as Bodo and ripped to the max. He had zero body fat, so Peter and I were able to admire his every muscle, which I noticed Peter was doing with unabashed curiosity. I caught his attention and raised my eyebrows at him in a conspiratorial message of mutual admiration. He smiled in return, giving me a pitiful wink that made him look like he had something stuck in both eyes. It made me laugh.
Paci looked up at me. "Something strike you as funny?"
"Yeah. You baby-talking to a nude poodle. — Elle Casey

There he is, bent over the page, with a monocle in his right eye, wholly devoted to the noble but rugged task of ferreting out the error. He has already promised himself to write a little monograph in which he will relate the finding of the book and the discovery of the error, if there really is one hidden there. In the end, he discovers nothing and contents himself with possession of the book. He closes it, gazes at it, gazes at it again, goes to the window and holds it in the sun. The only copy! At this moment a Caesar or a Cromwell passes beneath his window, on the road to power and glory. He turns his back, closes the window, stretches in his hammock, and fingers the leaves of the book slowly, lovingly, tasting it sip by sip ... An only copy! — Machado De Assis

This looks good."
"That's Metamucil," Bricker said with disgust, snatching it from her hand.
"So?" She turned to scowl at him. "What's wrong with Metamucil?"
"It's
" He glanced at the container and read, "A dietary supplement."
"That sounds healthy," she said, trying to grab it back.
"Eshe," he said, his disgust giving way to amusement. "It's what old mortals take to get regular."
"To get regular what?" she asked, and then poked him in the stomach, hard. The moment Bricker bent over with an "oomph," she snatched the container back and repeated, "Regular what?"
"Crap," he gasped, clutching his stomach.
"I didn't hit you that hard," she said with some disgust of her own.
"No." He sighed, straightening. "I meant that's what they get regulated. Crap."
Eshe dropped the can in dismay. "They buy crap? — Lynsay Sands

My horizon lightened, I see an old woman. Who is she? Where is she from? Bent over, the ends of her boubou tied behind her, she empties into a plastic bag the left-overs of red rice. Her smiling face tells of the pleasant day she has just had. She wants to take back proof of this to her family, living perhaps in Ouakam, Thiaroye or Pikine.
Standing upright, her eyes meeting my disapproving look, she mutters between teeth reddened by cola nuts: 'Lady, death is just as beautiful as life has been. — Mariama Ba

Samuel," Amelie said, and her voice was low and quiet and warm. She bent closer to him. "Samuel. Come back to me."
His eyes opened, and they were all pupil. Scary owl eyes. Claire bit her lip and thought again about running, but Hans and Gretchen were at her back and she knew she didn't have a chance, anyway.
Sam blinked, and his pupils began to shrink slowly to a more normal size. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
"Breathe in," Amelie said, in that same quiet, warm tone. "I'm here, Samuel. I won't leave you." She stroked fingers gently over his forehead, and he blinked again and slowly focused on her.
It was like there was nobody else in all the world, just the two of them. Amelie was wrong, Claire thought. It isn't just that Sam loves her. She loves him just as much. — Rachel Caine

I don't care who he is. He needs to disappear." Ransom turned and called out the window. "For the love of G-d man. I have England's sweetheart bent over the desk and panting for me. Go away and come back tomorrow. — Tessa Dare

When my play was with thee I never questioned who thou wert. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous.

In the early morning thou wouldst call me from my sleep like my own comrade and lead me running from glade to glade.

On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou sangest to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart danced in their cadence.

Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in awe with all its silent stars. — Rabindranath Tagore

Your house has two colors," she said,
while looking up at a corner
of my ceiling and walls.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why is that rainbow beach blanket on the couch?"
I replied, "Color."
She bent over and ripped
the beach towel off my white couch.
Maybe she thought I was trying to hide something.
"You talk a lot," she said sarcastically.
I looked back at her.
Maybe I raised an eyebrow,
but I didn't say anything.
She's right, of course.
I don't talk much.
I am a simple man.
I speak from my heart.
Sometimes, I write poetry. — Jeffrey A. White

He bent over her, a dark, imposing figure exuding power. His silver eyes glittered at her. "Hear me, Savannah. If you believe nothing else about me, believe this. You belong to me, with me. No one will ever attempt to take you from me and live. No one." His voice was low, beautiful, and all the more deadly for it. — Christine Feehan

Audrey's head spun. "You puked in the alley? Wow. You must really like him."
"Oh, God. Don't say that." Victoria bent her head over her knees and took slow, deep breaths.
"The vomiting seems to be her way of expressing her feelings toward Ford," Rachel told Audrey.
"Aw. And they say romance is dead." — Julie James

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. — Gerard Manley Hopkins

Let's go get dressed."
I looked down at him and saw that he was in his underwear still. I couldn't help but smile, but then we heard a door open. Gran came out of her room, stopping dead in her tracks at seeing her grandson in his skivvies.
I waited for her to blush, or something, anything, but she just stood there. Caleb coughed uncomfortably and pulled me in front of him. It was the first time he'd ever put me in front of him. Usually it was the other way around. And then Gran's cackle started. She laughed so hard and pointed, even doubling over as she did so.
"Gran, come on," Caleb complained to her and then bent his head to look at me when I started laughing too.
"I'm sorry," I said,"but its funny!" "Caleb," Gran laughed and gasped for breath, "just tell me you didn't walk all the way from your cell that way and I'll be fine. — Shelly Crane

Her eyes were misting over, her heart was talking on her lips. To need everything when everything is finished. She no longer knew whether she was sad or whether it was hunger. To live like that, head bent forward, chin resting down near her breasts, without muscles, without sinews, without vertebrae.
She smiled a martyr's smile for her own benefit: for her wretchedness was also a tenderness, and resignation is not the same as oblivion. — Violette Leduc

To the contrary, I think we bent over backwards to press for elections and for democratic reform. — John Negroponte

It had that comfortably sprung, lived-in look that library books with a lively circulation always get; bent page corners, a dab of mustard on page 331, a whiff of some reader's spilled after-dinner whiskey on page 468. Only library books speak with such wordless eloquence of the power good stories hold over us, how good stories abide, unchanged and mutely wise, while we poor humans grow older and slower. — Stephen King

I will talk about truth again, without which (without the word truth, without the mystery truth) there would be no writing. It is what writing wants. But it "(the truth)" is totally down below and a long way off. And all the people I love and whom I have mentioned are beings who are bent on directing their writing toward this truth-over-there, with unbelievable labor; they are fighting against the elements and principally agains the innumerable immediate exterior and interior enemies. — Helene Cixous

The wind was blowing from the east and the cedars bent before it, - blowing from the east like the breath of the war god. And Fred and Stanley were waving their hats gayly back to her, while the cedars bent and the wind blew from the east. They were like her own boys marching off to war. Children of her children, she loved them as she had loved their parents. Did a woman never get over loving? Deep love brought relatively deep heartaches. Why could not a woman of her age, whose family was raised, relinquish the hold upon her emotions? Why could she not have a peaceful old age, wherein there entered neither great affection nor its comrade, great sorrow? She had seen old women who seemed not to care as she was caring, whose emotions seemed to have died with their youth. Could she not be one of them? For a long time she stood in the window and looked at the cedars twisting before the east wind, like so many helpless women under the call from the east. — Bess Streeter Aldrich

But who then was he? What could his own self really consist of? He bent over that self in order to peer into it, but all he could find was the reflection of himself bending over himself to peer into that self ... Milan Kundera, Life is Elsewhere — Milan Kundera

If a railroad is bent, the train shall turn over; if a man's character is bent, he shall turn over just like that train. — Mehmet Murat Ildan

I walked over to the paper and bent as the pencil began scribbling across it.
You look OK. Are you OK?
"Liz?" A stupid question. Liz was the only poltergeist I knew. But if she was here, that meant. "Chloe?" My heart started thudding again. "Where's Chloe. Did they - ?"
She's outside.
I took a deep breath. "Good. Okay. My dad's there, too?"
I watched the paper. Nothing happened.
"Liz? My dad is with her, right? She called him, didn't she?"
Couldn't.
"What do you mean she couldn't. She has her cell - " No, she didn't. We hadn't taken them into the forest. If Chloe had managed to follow me straight from there ...
I swore. "Tell her to get to a pay phone. Call collect. Get my dad and - "
No time. They're packing the van.
"Then you ride with me. You can find out where we go, and return and Chloe - "
We're getting you out.
"What? No. Absolutely not. Tell Chloe - "
Girls rule :D — Kelley Armstrong

At one point, I was hell-bent on being a Disney animator, and sort of got over that in college and wanted to do my own stuff. You know, towards the end of college I had actually planned to go to the Boston Conservatory of Music for musical theater. — Seth MacFarlane

Ohlen stood and walked around the clearing, examining the ground as he went. "I see only one set of tracks ... " his voice trailed off as he knelt, inspecting the footprints more closely. "I've seen these before. This is the cru'gan."
Ahmahn came over and bent down beside his friend. "Him? Do you mean the scarred one that has Mirra?"
"Either that or a ferocious rabbit wearing cru'gan boots," Ohlen said sardonically. — Steven Scott Williamson

Ean seems like the 'not here to make friends' type, but I don't think anyone could go through this without getting close to someone. It's too hard. As difficult as it is for me, I know it's just as bad for you all."

"We definitely get the better end of the deal though," he said, winking at my reflection.

I tilted my head. "I don't know about that. The more I think about it, the sadder I get about having to send all but one of you away. I'll miss having you here."

"Have you considered a harem?" he said, deadpan.

I bent over in laughter and was rewarded with a pin stabbing my waist. "Ow!"

"Sorry! I shouldn't joke when there are needles around. — Kiera Cass