Hunched Quotes & Sayings

When she opened her door, Levi was sitting in the hallway, his legs bent in front of him, hunched forward on his knees. He looked up when she stepped out.
"I'm such an idiot," he said.
Cath fell between his knees and hugged him.
"I can't believe I said that," he said. "I can't even go nine hours without seeing you. — Rainbow Rowell

I thought of To Kill a Mockingbird. I had finished reading it one night in a bunker, my knees bent and hunched together while mortars hit the ground, the glow of a cigarette and the moon as my only light. Standing there now, chain-smoking, I felt like I finally understood the ending. — Michael Anthony

In a small, dark room with no windows, a man hunched over his cluttered workstation. Papers were scattered all over the surface of the desk and he had to dig through them to find the keyboard. He sat down and turned on the monitor. As the display warmed up, a bright green typing arrow faded into view in the bottom corner of the screen. The man scraped his hand across his scraggly beard and typed into the screen on his computer. "How are you doing today?" The display beeped and words formed on the screen as someone responded. "When can I have someone to play with?" The man sighed and typed again. "I'm sorry, but you know why you must be alone right now." The computer beeped as the reply came across the screen. "I'm doing better." "I'm sure you are, but I have to be sure you can't hurt anyone." "I promise I won't." "I believe you. But there are some things I have to do to make sure. — Steve DeWinter

Squished between my grandparents and moving at thirty miles an hour is a small price to pay to get to the vet's office, but today Luke begged to come along, so Papaw is driving even slower than usual. With Luke hunched don behind us in the bed of the truck, obviously without a seat belt, Mamaw keeps her eye on the odometer and yells about "precious cargo" every time the needle nears twenty. — Alecia Whitaker

At the local coffee-shop, hunched in one of the secretive, high-backed booths with hundreds of peoples' names gouged into the wood, we drank cup after cup of black coffee and talked frankly about sex. — Sylvia Plath

A faint light burned in the pit revealing a furry creature hunched over a stone slab, fiddling with something. At first Gregor raised a warning hand. He thought it was a rat.
Then the creature lifted his head and Gregor recognized what was left of his dad. — Suzanne Collins

Gage is waiting on the makeshift bed when she enters the room she's been sleeping in. The small lantern in the corner barely lights his features. His shoulders are hunched, his hands clasped together before him, and when he looks up, his face is downcast. There are a number of reasons why he would look this way, but the worst possible thing comes to mind first.
Someone is dead. — Laura Kreitzer

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Felicity and Ann hunched over their ornaments as if they were fascinating relics from an archaeological dig. I note that their shoulders are trembling, and I realize that they are fighting laughter over my terrible plight. There's friendship for you. — Libba Bray

Jezal swallowed and hunched his shoulders, watching the chunks of long dead wood file slowly past like rows of tombstones. "I don't like this," he muttered under his breath.
"You think I do?" Bayaz frowned grimly over at him. "You think any of us do? Men must sometimes do what they do not like if they are to be remembered. It is through struggle, not ease, that fame and honor are won. It is through conflict, not peace, that wealth and power are gained. — Joe Abercrombie

It suddenly occurred to me just how absurd this scene was: a guy wearing a suit of armor, standing next to an undead king, both hunched over the controls of a classic arcade game. — Ernest Cline

I soon forgot about my bedraggled appearance. Until, that is, an old man shuffled in and propped himself, hunched and wheezing, over the check-in desk. Karen asked him if he needed assistance.
"No," he grunted sucking on his teeth, "your wet-T-shirt librarian with the punk rock hair is helping me out just fine. — Suzanne Kelman

In the second row was a boy named Doon Harrow. He sat with his shoulders hunched, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, and his hands clasped tightly together. His hair looked rumpled, as if he hadn't combed it for a while. He had dark, thick eyebrows, which made him look serious at the best of times and, when he was anxious or angry, came together to form a straight line across his forehead. His brown corduroy jacket was so old that its ridges had flattened out. — Jeanne DuPrau

It made no sense. It was crazy, unbelievable, impossible. I had been seen, and I had walked away from it consequence-free. I could not really believe it, but slowly, gradually, as I parked my own car in front of my house and just sat for a moment, Logic came back from its too-long vacation on the island of Adrenaline, and I sat hunched over the steering wheel, and communed once more with sweet reason. All — Jeff Lindsay

A window smoky with lavender twilight arched over a desk littered with books and weeping columns of burning wax. Over the desk hunched a sooty-headed character. The scratching paused as he dipped a quill into an inkwell that sat beside an old-fashioned black telephone with large finger holes for dialing. — Maria Alexander

Judge's back was hunched over while he dug in as deep as he could. Sweat poured off him, the night air doing nothing to cool the inferno burning inside him. Michaels clenched tight around him and Judge thought he was coming, but he was caught off guard; his spirited bottom was yanking his orgasm from him. Set him a few degrees past burning. Judge buried as deep as he could, his cock throbbed angrily, and his balls drew up close to him. He threw his head back and roared as he came so far up inside Michaels' body, making him his forever. "Fuuuck. — A.E. Via

Zane hunched over, grabbing Ty's ass and spreading him apart as he fucked him brutally for five or six thrusts, nailing him to the door. He let out a long moan, and his hips stuttered as he began to come. For — Abigail Roux

The poet's life is just so much crenellated waste, nights and days whipping swiftly or laboriously past the cinematic window. We're hunched and weaving over the keys of our green our grey or pink blue manual typewriter maybe a darker stone cold thoritative selectric with its orgasmic expectant hum and us popping pills and laughing over what you or I just wrote, wondering if that line means insult or sex. Or both. Usually both. — Eileen Myles

There are people who'll dismiss me as 'just' a singer. That's how it is, how it's always been, but just because I'm not hunched over a piece of paper with a pen in my hand doesn't mean I'm not putting in the graft. — Joe Cocker

Ye wake in a corner and stay there hoping yer body will disappear, the thoughts smothering ye; these thoughts; but ye want to remember and face up to things, just something keeps ye from doing it, why can't ye no do it; the words filling yer head: then the other words; there's something wrong; there's something far far wrong; ye're no a good man, ye're just no a good man. Edging back into awareness, of where ye are: here, slumped in this corner, with these thoughts filling ye. And oh christ his back was sore; stiff, and the head pounding. He shivered and hunched up his shoulders, shut his eyes, rubbed into the corners with his fingertips; seeing all kinds of spots and lights. Where in the name of fuck ... — James Kelman

Finally, Peeta turns to Pollux. "Well, then you just became our most valuable asset." Castor laughs and Pollux manages a smile.
We're halfway down the first tunnel when I realize what was so remarkable about that exchange. Peeta sounded like his old self, the one who could always think of the right thing to say when nobody else could ... I glance back at him as he trudges along under his guards, Gale and Jackson, his eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched forward. So dispirited. But for a moment, he was really here. — Suzanne Collins

She seemed to fold into herself, like a pleated wing. Her pain antagonized me. I wanted to open her up, crisp her edges, ram a stick down that hunched and curving spine, force her to stand erect and spit the misery out on the streets. But she held it in where it could lap up into her eyes. — Toni Morrison

Hastings hunched at the rickety table in Interview Room C, doing a pretty good job of looking bored. The dribbles of sweat along his temples were the only sign he was feeling the heat.

Eve dropped into the chair across from him, flashed a big, friendly smile. "Hey. Thanks for dropping by."

"Kiss my white, dimpled ass."

"As tempting as that is, I'm afraid I'm not allowed to make such personal contact."

"You kicked my balls, you oughta be able to kiss my ass."

"Rules are rules. — J.D. Robb

Provence and Artois will be back. Antoinette. She will resume her state. The priests will be back. Children now in their cradles will suffer for what their fathers and mothers did.' Marat leaned forward, his body hunched, his eyes intent, as he did when he spoke from the tribune at the Jacobins. 'It will be an abattoir, an abattoir of a nation. — Hilary Mantel

Wasn't Pan sitting in a tree watching to see how I would comport myself? Wasn't his belly open, and wasn't he hunched over so that he seemed to be drinking from his own belly? But all this he did only so he could cock his eye and watch me, and the whole tree shook from his silent laughter when he saw that my thoughts were running away with me. — Knut Hamsun

Through it all he continued to teach and study, though he sometimes felt that he hunched his back futilely against the driving storm and cupped his hands uselessly around the dim flicker of his last poor match. — John Williams

I notice how it takes a lazy man, a man that hates moving, to get set on moving once he does get started off, the same as when he was set on staying still, like it aint the moving he hates so much as the starting and the stopping. And like he would be kind of proud of whatever come up to make the moving or the setting still look hard. He set there on the wagon hunched up, blinking, listening to us tell about how quick the bridge went and how high the water was, and I be durn if he didn't act like he was proud of it, like he had made the river rise himself. — William Faulkner

With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark rubber, and fear of fine sand. — Federico Garcia Lorca

I wasn't a perfect thing at 17. I didn't have confidence. I was hunched over and real embarrassed, and I didn't want to be in the limelight. But it changed over time. — Lindsay Davenport

Dan looked small in the corner, hunched over and broken. What was bizarre, what had angered her so, was that she had tried to do a story on Dan Mercer and his "good works" about a year before her sting showed his true predilections. Before that, Dan had seemed to be that rarest of beasts - the honest-to-God do-gooder, a man who truly wanted to make a difference and, most shockingly, a man who didn't couple that desire with self-aggrandizement. She — Harlan Coben

You snuck across my yard like a trained mercenary. Dressed in a black getup without so much as a pebble misplaced under your shoe or a crinkled leaf to make a sound. Had the lay of the land within seconds too I bet. Took down a man who outweighs you by fifty pounds as if you done it before. You hardly flinched when I set my gun on you. Now you're sittin' there all hunched around yourself like a rabbit in the grass. Definitely runnin' I just hope it's not from the law. — Jocelyn Adams

I stood there, my head bowed, my shoulders hunched. This is how it feels to be dragged from the cement shoes of a comfortable rut. The slow, steady strain on my legs became an excruciating amputation. My ankles pulled free from my feet. Bones snapped, cartilage tore, veins pulsed blood onto the soft brown clay of the yard. — Deborah Smith

Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago. Consider the kitchen of a spreading old house in a country town. A great black stove is its main feature; but there is also a big round table and a fireplace with two rocking chairs placed in front of it. Just today the fireplace commenced its seasonal roar. A woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window. She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen; but, due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. Her face is remarkable - not unlike Lincoln's, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind; but it is delicate, too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid. "Oh my," she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, "it's fruitcake weather! — Truman Capote

My darling, my child, my connoisseur of sesquipedalian words and convoluted ideas and meandering sentences and baroque images, while the sun is asleep and the moon somnambulant, while the stars bathe us in their glow from eons ago and light-years away, while you are comfortably nestled in your blankets and I am hunched over in my chair by your bed, while we are warm and safe and still for the moment in this bubble of incandescent light cast by the pearl held up by the mermaid lamp, you and I, on this planet spinning and hurtling through the frigid darkness of space at dozens of miles per second, let's read. — Ken Liu

I do Pilates because it's important for me to have a healthy back when I'm 70 so I'm not hunched over and in pain. — Cobie Smulders

The badger had paused on the edge of the shadows that filled the back of the cave. Its powerful shoulders were hunched and its claws scraped on rock. Its head swung to and fro, the white stripe glimmering, as if it were deciding which of them to attack first. Then it spoke. "Midnight has come." Brambleclaw's mouth fell open, and for a moment he felt as if the ground had given way beneath him again. That a badger could speak, could say words he understood, words that actually meant something . . . He stared in disbelief, his heart pounding. "I am Midnight." The badger's voice was deep and rasping, like the sound of the pebbles turning under the waves. "With you I must speak. — Erin Hunter

Hunched down in the small bright room Nel waited. Waited for the oldest cry. A scream not for others, not in sympathy for a burnt child, or a dead father, but a deeply personal cry for one's own pain. A loud, strident: 'Why me?' She waited. — Toni Morrison

All socialists have bad backs because we slouch - except when we're watching the news when we sit on the edge of our seats, shout, and wave our arms. Generally we sit hunched, arms crossed in a judgemental way, the whole of our bodies pulled into a frown. — Jeremy Hardy

Maureen clapped her hands together. "Oh," she said in her elfin little voice. "It's pretty."
"Pretty?" Simon looked quickly at the hunched shape on top of the concrete block. "Maureen, what the hell- — Cassandra Clare

It was all right. Nick thought about this and decided that what Alan said was true. He'd never been helpless before, not since he could remember, but now he was and everything was all right. He did not have to speak, he was not able to move, all he could do was lie there and have his brother hold him, hunched over and shielding him from the world. — Sarah Rees Brennan

It's hard to look in charge when you're hunched over like Quasimodo. — Rick Riordan

Within forty minutes, the voice inside my head was screaming, WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO? I tried to ignore it, to hum as I hiked, though humming proved too difficult to do while also panting and moaning in agony and trying to remain hunched in that remotely upright position while also propelling myself forward when I felt like a building with legs. — Cheryl Strayed

And I'll tell you another thing, Patrick Michael Thomas Cunnane, if you think you can come and go at all hours as you damn please just because you're going off to college, you'd best get that thick head of yours examined in a hurry. I'll be happy to do it myself, with the skillet I have in my hand, just as soon as I'm done with it."
"Yes,ma'am." At the table Patrick say with his shoulders hunched, wincing at this mother's back. "But since you're using it, maybe I could have some more French toast.Nobody makes it like you do."
"You won't get around me that way."
"Maybe I will."
She shot a look over her shoulder that Brian recognized as one only a mother could conjure to wither a child.
"And maybe I won't," Patrick muttered, then brightened when he saw Brian at the door. "Ma,we've got company. Have a seat,Brian. Had breakfast? My mother makes world-famous French toast."
"Witnessess won't save you," Adelia said mildly, but turned to smile at Brian. — Nora Roberts

What could I say? Maybe this: the man hunched over his motorcycle can focus only on the present instant of his flight; he is caught in a fragment of time cut off from both the past and the future; he is wrenched from the continuity of time; he is outside time; in other words, he is in a state of ecstasy; in that state he is unaware of his age, his wife, his children, his worries, and so he has no fear, because the source of fear is in the future, and a person freed of the future has nothing to fear. — Milan Kundera

All the others knew that he had a mind, knew that he was capable of understanding ideas. What will new people think when they see me? They'll see a body that's already atrophying, hunched over; they'll see me walk with a shuffling gait; they'll watch me use my hands like paws, clutching a spoon like a three-year-old; they'll hear my thick, half-intelligible speech; and they'll assume, they'll know, that such a person cannot possibly understand anything complicated or difficult. — Orson Scott Card

The next morning, the earth was strewn with debris from the windstorm the night before. An audience of trees looked down on severed limbs cast about the ground, their hunched and beaten postures reminding me of a congregation of amputees gathered in the wake of a war. — John Burley

Clayton," she said softly, her voice threaded with tears, "when Vanessa asked about my accomplishments tonight, I forgot to mention that I do have one. And it's
it's so splendid that it compensates for my lack of all the others."
Stephen and Clayton grinned at each other, neither of them hearing the emotion that clogged her voice. "What splendid accomplishments is that, little one?" Clayton asked.
Her shoulders hunched forward and began to shake. "I made you love me," she whispered brokenly. "Somehow, some way, I actually made you love me. — Judith McNaught

Listen, baby, life is a series of things we choose and things we carry. The things we choose, well, those are ours. But we don't get a vote on the things we carry. Some are heavier than others, some we can put down eventually, and some are ours to keep. We don't have a choice in the burdens we're given to bear, but we do have a choice in how we hold them. We can strap them to our backs and walk through the world hunched over under the weight like someone who should spend his or her days in a bell tower. Or we can stand tall and straight like one of those African queens carrying a woven basket on her head. — Mia Sheridan

A creature
a frightfully, awful creature
was mere feet from her. Its eyes were enormous, the size of goose eggs and milky white. Its gray, slippery skin was stretched taut upon its face. Its mouth was wide and full of needle teeth. Its hands rested on the rock, hands that were webbed and huge with each finger ending in a sharp, curved nail. It was as tall as a human man, yet oddly shrunken and hunched. — M.L. LeGette

He smiled all the way to physics class. He almost laughed out loud when he passed through the door and saw her shadowy, hunched-over form casting around for a seat in the back.
She was in his class; this was excellent. Maybe she'd call him a name if he struck up another conversation. Even curse him out. That might fun. God, he'd probably earn himself a restraining order if he tried to sit next to her.
He was so tired of saccharine smiles and cloying tones of voice. People always plastered their eyes to his face for fear of looking anywhere else. He was fed up with everybody being so goddamned nice.
That's why he'd already fallen in love with this weird, maladjusted, beautiful girl who carried a chip the size of Ohio on her shoulder. Because nobody was ever mean to the guy in the wheelchair. — Francine Pascal

The screams echoing through Janet's class were hard to bear. She was attempting a lecture on the Treaty of Paris while Mrs. Pachenko walked between the rows of desks insisting upon calm, raising a finger to her lips and whispering to individual students to please sit all the way down in their desks. In the back of the of the room, several kids were cheering as one of them, a young man whose shirt bore a flaming skull, stood hunched atop his desk like a motocross biker, sliding it forward in small hops. Students appear enthusiastic and are communicating well together, I wrote on the evaluation form. — Alissa Nutting

Mrs. Scott, do you mind my asking why the alarm wasn't on?" This was from Mayhew. He had taken out a notebook and pen. His shoulders were hunched, as if someone had asked him to mimic a character from a Raymond Chandler novel. — Karin Slaughter

papillon, was staring up at an old woman sitting hunched — Patti Benning

About a year before this, K had had several nasty falls, and Jolly had said that either the Alzheimer's or the medicine for it was somehow affecting her balance. Perhaps K's fear of falling made her over compensate and walk hunched forward; perhaps it made her feel more balanced, more in control of her body. Bit it also made her look like hell--almost to the "hump" stage.........(end of quote)

Connie's comment: My dad was aggravated by a physical therapist who tried to re-teach him to walk. My dad did not appreciate someone telling him how to walk. He finally explained to us that he walked hunched over so he would be closer to the ground if he fell. — John West

Instead, it struck him deeply just how much he loved Sin.
And even as he acknowledged that, he realized he felt the emotion on a deeper, less
chaotic level than he had before. He had known he loved Sin for over a year but it had
never felt like such a simple statement of fact for his life before; it had never seemed so
undeniable and yet at the same time without any negativity.
Whereas there had been times before when the love he'd felt for Sin had seemed
almost desperate or painful, now as he hunched over Sin with his fingers grasping Sin's
slack hand, Boyd felt at peace with the knowledge. It was as if a weight were lifted from
his shoulders and he understood that he could be no other way. — Ais

As the years went by and age overtook her, there was something comical yet touching in her bedraggled appearance on this awesome occasion - the small, hunched-over figure, her studied absorption in the implausible notion that there would be yet another spring, oblivious to the ending of her own days, which she knew perfectly well was near at hand, sitting there with her detailed chart under those dark skies in the dying October, calmly plotting the resurrection. - E. B. White — Katharine S. White

I once took a poo in the woods while hunched over like an animal. It was AWESOME. — Drew Barrymore

I'd seen it happen, how hard it was to get out. Every year, one or two kids would visit from college for a long October weekend and simply never leave. They came home, cocooned themselves in the familiar radius of the town limits, and never broke free again. Years later, you'd see them working in the kitchen at the pizza place, or sitting at the bar in the East Bank Tavern. Shoulders hunched, jaw set, skin slack. And in the waning light of their eyes, the barest sensation that once upon a time, they been somewhere else ... or maybe it was only a dream. — Kat Rosenfield

Nicole crumpled - just let her legs give way and fell to the floor, hunched and sobbing. Hayley looked at me. Even Rafe did. Uncertain looks from both of them. I had to admit, Nicole was a good actor. If I hadn't seen her switch from "sweet Nicole" to "raving lunatic Nicole" in a heartbeat at the campsite, I might have believed her myself. — Kelley Armstrong

One time, I noticed that the little waxy strips you peel off the maxi pad adhesive were printed, over and over, with a slogan: 'Kotex Understands.' In the worst moments, when my period felt like a death - the death of innocence, the death of safety, the harbinger of a world where I was too fat, too weird, too childish, too ungainly - I'd sit hunched over on the toilet and stare at that slogan, and I'd cry. Kotex understands. Somebody, somewhere, understands. — Lindy West

In the dark behind the glare of the television, like a mannequin behind it, I could see a silhouette and it wasn't moving. It was maybe six foot high with its shoulders hunched and I blinked to make sure it was real. The TV fuzzed grey and white and black and I had a lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow away. "Rory" I whispered. Clawing out gently beneath the duvet cover, reaching for his hand. But I couldn't find it. And he didn't answer. — Kate Chisman

Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many who have long since stopped trying to scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of their sunken faces. But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in. If you can. Our — Suzanne Collins

The traffic was heavy, carriages, cabs, wagons, carts of every description passing by, splashing the water out of the gutters, wheels hissing on the wet road, horses dripping, sodden hides dark. Drivers sat hunched with collars up and hats down in a futile attempt to keep the cold rain from running down their necks, hands clenched on the reins. — Anne Perry

The single static note amidst the swirl of activity was Grandmother deShiel, who sat small and hunched on the cast-iron garden seat outside the library, lost in her cobwebbed memories and completely oblivious to the round glass lanterns being strung up in the trees around her - — Kate Morton

Jared stalked to the door and swung it wide open. Ash stood in the doorway, face red and shoulders hunched. Jared didn't speak to him; he shoved past him and walked off down the corridor.

Kami expected certain terrible behaviors from Jared, and right now she felt let down.

If you wanted something done, she supposed, you just had to do it yourself, so she walked over to the doorway and punched Ash hard in the arm. — Sarah Rees Brennan

He broke the kiss. "Say my name, Martise." He snarled the command, but she wasn't afraid. His hips rocked against hers, and she was impaled on his cock, reveling in his fierce possession. For a few brief hours, he was as much hers as she was his, and she could tell him how much he meant to her in a softly spoken name. Every desire, every craving, every forbidden wish - she infused into her voice. "Silhara." He gasped, a tortured sound, and his eyes rolled back. Martise clutched him to her as he shuddered, felt the sudden pulse of his shaft, his release followed by a wet heat as he came inside her. He hunched over her, chest heaving as he strove to breathe. She clasped his hips with her legs to maintain their connection, reluctant to give him up. He slowly lowered his weight onto her, careful not to crush her. — Grace Draven

I'm guessing you've got a spare in the trunk, but one spare isn't gonna do us much good," Johnny sighed. "Who would do something like this?"

"Did you notice all the looks you were getting from the ladies?"

"Absolutely." Johnny smiled deviously, his eyebrows waggling.

"Yeah, well so did all the other guys. I'm guessing one of them - and his name starts with 'D' and end with 'erek,' was a little jealous of your hot moves and decided to take it out on our cool ride."

Maggie hunched down beside him and sighed. "How many blondes does it take to change a tire?"

"Only one, sweetheart, but this blonde can't work a miracle. — Amy Harmon

I'm going to arrange you, if that's okay?"
I swallowed. "Uh ... sure." My hands were clutched to my ribcage, my shoulders hunched almost to my ears. What, this isn't how you want me positioned? — Tammara Webber

I experience the same level of intense concentration watching a thrilling tennis match as I do hunched over a heaping pile of warm socks diligently searching for exact matches. — Gregor Collins

Fifteen minutes later I'm hunched over the steering wheel of a two-seater that looks like something you'd find in your corn flakes packet. The Smart is insanely cute and compact, does about seventy miles to a gallon, and is the ideal second car for nipping about town but I'm not nipping about town. I'm going flat out at maybe a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour on the autobahn while some joker is shooting at me from behind with a cannon that fires Porsches and Mercedes. Meanwhile, I'm stuck driving something that handles like a turbocharged baby buggy. I've got my fog lights on in a vain attempt to deter the other road users from turning me into a hood ornament, but the jet wash every time another executive panzer overtakes me keeps threatening to roll me right over onto my roof. And that's before you factor in the deranged Serbian truck drivers driven mad with joy by exposure to a motorway that hasn't been cluster-bombed and then resurfaced by the lowest bidder. — Charles Stross

Honestly, my entire childhood could be summed up with one word: Reader. I was always hunched over a book; in fact, I was the only kid in the world who got paler in the summer, because I'd sneak down into our cool, dank cellar and sit alone with a book for hours. — Kristan Higgins

There was no way Baz was consciously mimicking the pose of the Howl's Moving Castle figurine, yet this was exactly what he was doing. Elijah's imagination completed the shadows into dark wings, but otherwise it was the same: shorter, hesitant Elijah standing before the taller, hunched, aching Baz, tentatively trying to capture his attention. — Heidi Cullinan

One helped him through the window. Every inch of his body ached and his muscles were rubber, but somehow he managed to make it on his own, falling to the floor of the cockpit in a heap. Alec sat hunched over the controls, his face slack and his eyes empty. Trina sat in the corner, Deedee huddled in her lap. Both of them looked at him, but their expressions were unreadable. "Flat Trans," Mark blurted out. Sparkles and flashes of light continued to cross his field of vision, and he could barely contain the unstable emotions that churned within him. "Bruce said the PFC had a Flat Trans in Asheville. We have to find it." Alec's head snapped up and he glared at Mark. But then something softened in his gaze. "I think I know where to — James Dashner

He hunched his shoulders and drove his feet harder, as if he wasn't so much walking to Queenie as away from himself. — Rachel Joyce

She watched him in the glow of the lamplight, his broad shoulders hunched over the piano, his hair flopping over his face, and knew she couldn't fight her feelings for him any longer. Denying him wasn't going to make them go away. And looking at him right at this moment, she didn't want them to. — Alexandra Potter

With drooping shoulders The majority sit hunched, their foreheads furrowed like Stony ground that has been repeatedly ploughed-up to no purpose. — Bertolt Brecht

While the bodies of young children are usually relaxed and flexible, if experiences of fear are continuous over the years, chronic tightening happens. Our shoulders may become permanently knotted and raised, our head thrust forward, our back hunched, our chest sunken. Rather than a temporary reaction to danger, we develop a permanent suit of armor. We become, as Chogyam Trungpa puts it, "a bundle of tense muscles defending our existence." We often don't even recognize this armor because it feels like such a familiar part of who we are. But we can see it in others. And when we are meditating, we can feel it in ourselves - the tightness, the areas where we feel nothing. — Tara Brach

Stand up straight. If you stand up straight, you will instantly feel better about yourself, and you will project a better image to the world, one that says you don't feel like you have to be hunched over and closed off. — Chris Hardwick

He had tried to explain the way he felt to Danny once, about compulsive behavior and time rushing too fast and the Internet and drugs. Danny had only lifted one of his slender, mobile eyebrows and stared at him in smirking confusion. Danny did not think coke and computers were anything alike. But Jude had seen the way people hunched over their screens, clicking the refresh button again and again, waiting for some crucial if meaningless hit of information, and he thought it was almost exactly the same. — Joe Hill

Well," he said, "I think we've found our way in. We just wait until they're duking it out, but trust me, these Humans First types don't have a lot of staying power or they'd have been at the gym with me before. I doubt Grandma Kent there is going to do a lot of damage." He pointed at a gray-haired, hunched lady in a shawl, carrying what looked liked a gardening tool. "It's like Plants Versus Zombies, and I'm not rooting for the zombies, weirdly enough. — Rachel Caine

The century's greatest detective, advertised as solving every case imaginable. How great his burden must be, how much pain must he go through every single moment: past, present, and future ... A burden so great it would leave you hunched over. A bitter taste in your mouth that would leave you longing for sweets.
-M — NisiOisiN

Two men, I think. A driver and a passenger." Reacher didn't want to turn around to look. Didn't want to show either guy the pale flash of a concerned face in the rear window. So he hunched down a little and moved sideways until he could see the image in Chang's door mirror. A pick-up truck, about a hundred yards back. A Ford, he thought. A serious machine, big and obvious, keeping pace. It was dull red, like the general store. There were two guys in it, side by side, but far from each other, because of the vehicle's extravagant width. — Lee Child

He hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself smaller in the seat. He wanted to disappear, to fade away, not to exist. — Lois Lowry

You don't have to spend the entire day hunched over your computer consuming this information. Maybe, it is as simple as once in a while glancing down at the device that's invaluable to you or many reasons, catching up, or it lets you know when you should know something. But as these things get better and we get more connected in it, it will get more sophisticated. — Biz Stone

Myron put the phone back in his pocket and crossed the path. Dog Collar had his hands jammed into his pants pockets as though he was searching for something that had pissed him off. His shoulders were hunched. He had a tattoo on his neck - Myron couldn't tell what it was - and he was pulling on his cigarette as though he meant to finish it with one inhale. "Hey, — Harlan Coben

He was seated on the bench now. He had his left elbow on his knee, his right arm across his lap, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. White face, red hair: snow and fire, like something from an old tale. The book I had noticed earlier was on the bench beside him, its covers shut. Around Anluan's feet and in the birdbath, small visitors to the garden hopped and splashed and made the most of the day that was becoming fair and sunny. He did not seem to notice them. As for me, I found it difficult to take my eyes from him. There was an odd beauty in his isolation and his sadness, like that of a forlorn prince ensorcelled by a wicked enchantress, or a traveller lost forever in a world far from home. — Juliet Marillier

When I finished bathing after dinner, Kumiko was sitting in the living room with the lights out. Hunched down in the dark with her gray shirt on, she looked like a piece of luggage that had been left in the wrong place. — Haruki Murakami

Quentin was thin and tall, though he habitually hunched his shoulders in a vain attempt to brace himself against whatever blow was coming from the heavens, and which would logically hit the tall people first. — Lev Grossman

As their eyes became accustomed to the light, the girls were startled to see the figure in front of them. Hunched over, wearing a dark cloak, was an old man. His long, white hair straggled over his shoulders, his skin was covered with grey whiskers and one of his eyes, hooded, drooped below the other bulging one. His mouth hung open and his yellowed teeth did nothing to stop his rank breath pervading the air. — Helen Laycock

There, before me, was a pond surrounded by large patches of tall grass and spindly trees that swayed gently with the cool breeze. In the middle of the water was a man hunched over, bound to two tree stumps. He was moaning and in pain. I could feel it from where I stood. I moved towards him but stopped when a deep voice spoke in the darkness.
"Do not touch him. — Brynn Myers

He closed his eyes. Swiftly like a predator, the vision of his death struck. This time it would not be denied.
The white ground, black rocks, and red drops of his heart's blood growing on the ground like blooming roses. He lost himself in the sensation of liquid warmth flowing between his fingers.
When he could finally see again, he found himself kneeling on the floor, shoulders hunched. That damned scene hung like an albatross around his neck, until he almost wished it would go ahead and happen, just so that he could get it the fuck over with.
He had carried that albatross for almost two hundred damn years - exactly from the moment when he had responded to a damsel in distress and had embroiled himself in another man's curse. — Thea Harrison

My coffee was steaming, and I hunched over it while I watched the demon. His long fingers were interlaced about the white soup-bowl mug as if relishing its warmth, and though I couldn't tell for sure because of the sunglasses, I think his eyes closed as he took the first sip. A look of bliss so deep it couldn't have been faked slipped over him, easing his features and turning him into a vision of relaxed pleasure. — Kim Harrison

If guilt can cause heartache, then I've definitely experienced it. Seeing Ivy hunched over and crying for probably the first time in her really long life is making me feel like the worst person in the world. With her tears streaked face in her hands, she looks so fragile, vulnerable, and human.
I come forwards and give her a hug. — Colleen Boyd

What this committee needs, what this media center needs, is a good dose of Jeeves."
"I'm sorry," said Mr. Peabody, a mathematics lecturer who sat hunched at the far end of the table taking the minutes. "How do you spell that?"
"Is it possible," said Arthur, raising both his shoulders and his voice, "that we are working in a university where lecturers are not aware of the identity of one Reginald Jeeves, the gentleman's personal gentleman and the personal gentleman's gentleman? What has happened to cultural literacy, my fellow members of the Advisory Committee for the Media Center? This sort of ignorance is exactly what needs addressing. What I mean, Mr. Peabody, when I say that we need a dose of Jeeves, is that we need quiet and reasoned wisdom that leads to prompt and directed action. — Charlie Lovett

The least I can do is speak out for the hundreds of chimpanzees who, right now, sit hunched, miserable and without hope, staring out with dead eyes from their metal prisons. They cannot speak for themselves. — Jane Goodall

None of them knowing that that was Rez hunched down in there, under a jacket, but maybe sensing it somehow. And something in Chia letting her know she'd never quite be like that again. Never as comfortably a face in that crowd. Because now she knew there were rooms they never saw, or even dreamed of, where crazy things, or even just boring things, happened, and that was where the stars came from. — William Gibson

Seeing yourself as part of a creative lineage will help you feel less alone as you start making your own stuff. I hang pictures of my favourite artists in my studio. They're like friendly ghosts. I can almost feel them pushing me forward as I'm hunched over my desk. — Austin Kleon

It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbledstreets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea. — Dylan Thomas

Because after a couple days of this fabulous invisible room-cleaning, I start to wonder how exactly Petra knows when I'm in 1009 and when I'm not. It's now that it occurs to me how rarely I ever see her. For a while I try experiments like all of a sudden darting out into the 10-Port hallway to see if I can see Petra hunched somewhere keeping track of who is decabining, and I scour the whole hallway-and-ceiling area for evidence of some kind of camera or monitor tracking movements outside the cabin doors - zilch on both fronts. But then I realize that the mystery's even more complex and unsettling than I'd first thought, because my cabin gets cleaned always and only during intervals where I'm gone more than half an hour. When I go out, how can Petra or her supervisors possibly know how long I'm going to be gone? — David Foster Wallace

I have been seeing dragons again.
Last night, hunched on a beaver dam,
one held a body like a badly held cocktail;
his tail, keeping the beat of a waltz,
sent a morse of ripples to my canoe.
They are not richly bright
but muted like dawns
or the vague sheen on a fly's wing.
Their old flesh drags in folds
as they drop into grey pools,
strain behind a tree.
Finally the others saw one today, trapped,
tangled in our badminton net.
The minute eyes shuddered deep in the creased face
while his throat, strangely fierce, stretched
to release an extinct burning inside:
pathetic loud whispers as four of us
and the excited spaniel surrounded him. — Michael Ondaatje

I would start with four fingers of Jack in a thick mug, with a sweating Budweiser back, and by midnight I would be alone at the end of the bar, armed, drunk, and hunched over my glass, morally and psychologically insane. — James Lee Burke