Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Scrunched. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Scrunched Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including William Shakespeare,Eddie Van Halen,Wooden Leg,Lao-Tzu,Sarah J. Maas for you to enjoy and share.
What a deformed thief this fashion is.
I boil the strings so they stretch.
ragged clothing he had on was taken
Shrinking looked they like those who wade through a stream in winter;
Sam probably folded his undergarments.
Labor's face is wrinkled with the wind, and swarthy with the sun.
I was so wrinkled I could screw my hats on.
Union of the Hideously and Improbably Deformed,
Even his stalwart manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under
Wheat-Thinned Slut Monkey.
Scrawny little mundane bastard.
Her face worked in an odd way, like knitting coming undone.
We wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die:
Ben: You're gonna get arrested.
Lindsey Meeks: You can't sell your tickets!
Ben: That's why you ran across the whole field? ... Wait, you've got to tell me - was it spongy?
Salt a slug shame a here, and they shrink right up.
This is how looseLoose-- Gary Keller
In the '90s, people wore scrunchies, but it was very uncool in the punk scene.
His modesty amounts to deformity.
Impressive, isn't it?" Divan says with pride. "I purchased it from a Brazilian artist, who has apparently made a career working in flesh. He claims his artwork is to protest unwinding, but I ask you, how much of a protest can it be if he uses the unwound for his art?
Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?
Blessed are the flexible for they will not allow themselves to become bent out of shape!
It turned out that some crooked things looked even worse when straightened. Some tangled knots only made sense once unraveled.
she'd been given to wear were worn and scuffed. Her dress was too big, her hair unevenly chopped and she still had bruises on the side of her face. Now, he expected her to
An old expression
'she looks like she was weaned on a pickle'
came to my mind.
Shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was rather
It tried to fold everything," he said to Jackson, tasting bile in his throat. "But a person isn't a sheet, Mark. What I saw ... what was left of her ... " Like Stanner, the hapless foreman, he could not finish. "They took her out in a basket," he said softly.
With Angela drawn to the hangdog look and Malachy lonely after three months in jail, there was bound to be a knee-trmbler.
A knee-trmbler is the act itself done up against a wall, man and woman up on their toes, straining so hard their knees tremble with the excitement that's in it.
Slattern! What a wonderful new word. 'Slattern,' I murmur appreciatively to Patricia.
'Yes, slattern,' Bunty says firmly. 'That's what she is.'
'Not a slut like you then?' Patricia says very quietly. Loud enough to be heard, but too quiet to be believed.
(On period costume posture coaching
We all stand about like parboiled spaghetti being straightened out.
Loose and forbear!
You see it in the many bouncing clothes that are not just pleats. To make them, two or three people twist them - twist, twist, twist the pleats, sometimes three or four persons twist together and put it all in the machine to cook it.
Rip yourself open. Sew yourself shut.
sometimes decided to be truculent and unyielding, like a grouchy toddler -
Muscle, had goggled him and muzzled him - goggled his mind, muzzled his speech, goggled his perception, muzzled his protest.
One fleece down, one to go.
Wrinkled, wrinkled little star ... hope they never see the scars.
I'm mangled," I said. "On the inside and the outside.
and thin, with the slight stoop
measured his own length in the Flemish mud and skidded forward, all elbows and knees; then he jerked erect again, breathless, desperate and angered, at the heart of a sudden
Tangle me up like Grandma's yarn,
Her lips were tightly glued together, her chin protruding, her whole layout that of a girl who intended to stand no rannygazoo.
When we were locked and loaded, he led the way and we jogged in silence.
Actually, I jogged in silence, my feet and movements soundless. Greg jogged like a large man who used to be a Marine.
Crunch.
Crash.
Smash.
Snap.
Crack.
Amateur.
I pressed and I prayed. It was only right that pressing went with prayer. That and being sorry. Every wrinkle was a patch of sorry to be smoothed and flattened.
Tall and skinny, with arms and legs sticking out at odd angles, as if [they] were made of drinking straws instead of flesh and bone.
Bent but never broken; down but never out.
A very scurvy fellow.
A short story padded. A species of composition bearing the same relation to literature that the panorama bears to art. As it is too long to be read at a sitting the impressions made by its successive parts are successively effaced, as in the pa
His shirt, tie, and trousers were folded small as an apology on a faded blue-velvet chair.
His feet were swollen to twice their size, besides being cut here and there. Yet they were the only feet he had, and after dozing for an hour in the sun, he got up and hobbled on.
There she was, bundled into sweats and a long wool coat five sizes too large for her, her curls hidden by a massive gray hat with earflaps-a look that could have been pulled off effectively only by someone in 1930s Siberia...or a supremely angular male model.
I was held together by one thread that was black and frayed, and the end of it was tied to Maggie. She had unwittingly pulled on it, loosening the already loose knitting until I was nothing more than a pile of tangled string, completely unraveled.
His face was like a whipped back, criss-crossed with ragged scars. His
Lumpy and lazy; I aspired to lethargy. In the second year of university, I missed half my classes just because I couldn't pull myself out of bed.
Shoes twisted into incredible lilies.
Their skin hung loose over their bodies like suits they had inherited from larger ancestors, with the trousers ridiculously baggy.
That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.
smeared a balm over the end of it.
I held my arm out in front of me and twisted it back and forth. Palm up. Palm down. Now you look fractured. Now you look whole.
You were broken years ago and you healed hunched. And now you're broken again and trying to heal even more hunched.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
Discombobulated.
What does old look like? Sometimes I am wrinkled, sometimes not.
Oh my god, I am so awesome!" Leo bellowed.
"So awesome!" Echo yelled back.
"He is funny," a nymph ventured.
"And cute, in a scrawny way," another said.
"Scrawny?" Leo asked. "Baby I invented scrawny. Scrawny is the new sizzling hot.
The material was wrinkled, yet even in the low light it remembered the shape of two bodies.
His nose was the size of a small fist and resembled a deformed potato.
For two hours I'd felt myself stretching tighter and tighter, like a rubber band pulled to the point of snapping. And now, I could feel the smaller, weaker part of myself beginning to fray, tiny bits giving way before the big break.
I am going to shrink and shrink until I am a dry fall leaf, complete with a translucent spine and brittle veins, blowing away in a stiff wind, up, up, up into a crisp blue sky.
I do not want to be folded
for where I am folded,
there I am a lie.
So you like to stretch the truth?" he asked me. "Stretch, fold, spindle, staple or cut, whatever it takes to get it to fit just right".
Simple, like uncarved wood.
The loose skin on her face had been lifted. Her nose was smaller. Her teeth were capped. The lines on her forehead had been erased. Her eye bags had disappeared. Her wrinkles had gone. Her breasts were much, much bigger. But she was still limping.
When I started skiing my pants were baggy and my cheeks were tight
Now my cheeks are baggy and my pants are tight.
I wish that we could tumble them in the dryer for 30 minutes and get them to shrink, but that won't happen.
thin materials, or in conjunction with flat stitch. Twisted knot
I assume my stance, and take back the club, low, slowly; at the top, my eyes fog over, and my joints dip and swirl like barn swallows, I swing. There is a fruitless commotion of dust and rubber at my feet. "Smothered it," I say promptly. After enough lessons the terminology becomes second nature.
I sutured split infinitives and hoisted dangling modifiers and wore out the seam of my best flannel skirt.
I'm jus' pain covered with skin.
I stand tall, but everything inside shrinks. The thing is, I feel real bad.
I was born with lots of deformities.
Reclined legs don't get fed, they get limp like boiled spaghetti. Walk it out!
One who dresses in rags that have been washed clean dresses cleanly to be sure, but raggedly nonetheless.
Her spine was the crease on a piece of paper, her bones no more than diagonal folds on a bit of origami
with a face like a fish pressed to glass; eyes so large they appear distorted. "Is
Knit your hearts with an unslipping knot.
Each day adds a bead
to the ever peevish episodes of frailty,
I try running at an unkempt speed,
returning back like waves into a cruel sea;
People underestimate me, but I've always been a stretch runner.
Thou art a very ragged Wart.
crippled. He'd been better as soon as his hooves were trimmed.
Rest in the Lord; wait patiently for Him. In Hebrew, "Be silent in God, and let Him mould thee." Keep still, and He will mould thee to the right shape.
Wriggled to avoid the lump that always seemed directly under
Her pubic hair grew like a patch of grass that had been trampled by a passing army.
He had been trussed up like a chicken in his own breeches.
We came, we saw, we bedazzled! You know, and it's hard to be serious and thoughtful when you're dressed like a Skittle.
Upped but mentally disjointed.
She washed he hands,then looked at my side. "you haven't even had it stitched?" She said incredulously.
"I've been rather busy," I said. "With the running like hell and hiding all night.
Here." Sam came over, stripped down to his boxers. "Hunch forward and put your head down."
Robin looked at him. "My safe word is monkey.
I've kind of fashioned my life after a Slinky. Bend me in a million shapes, and eventually I'll spring back to what I originally was.
He looked like a man who was turning into paper, folding himself into origami angles, fragile and friable and prone to crumple.
Jaska straightened, though his whole person seemed to wilt.
the skin was yellow, the eyes slightly slanted;