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a
wound
 |  Word belgesi oluştur  |  Listeye Ekle  | 
 
Seslendir:
Okunuşu: / wuːnd / Okunuş kuralları
Dil: İngilizce
Hecelenişi: wound
Ekler: wounds
Türü: isim, fiil


Tanımı:


i. , k.dili Oh! Hayret!
i. , argo. hayret uyandıran kimse veya şey, çok makbul şey.
f. , argo. şaşırtmak, hayrete düşürmek.

wound için örnek cümleler:

(Üzerinde olduğunuz kelimenin anlamını görmek için 'CTRL' tuşuna basınız veya kelimeye tıklayınız.!)
  • The stairs wound around in a spiral, and were narrow and uneven, making the footing treacherous. The gloom deepened as they descended, and it started to get colder. Still, no traps were sprung, and they made it down to the bottom safely.
  • That's what made the character so valuable, he grinned, feeling the bandage about his head tenderly. I saw that he was weaker than he had led us to believe, and that he was suffering from his wound.
  • In the mean time, the unhappy victim of groundless suspicion was so stunned with the blow she had received, as to remain for a short interval on the ground without any signs of life. Afterwards, coming to herself, she brought an old female servant to her assistance by her plaints and lamentations. That good old woman, beholding her mistress in so deplorable a state, waked the whole household and even the neighbourhood by her cries. The room was soon filled with spectators. Surgical assistance was sent for. The wound was probed, and pronounced not to be mortal. Their opinion turned out to be correct; for Estephania soon recovered, and was in due time delivered of a son, not withstanding the cruel circumstances in which she had been placed. That son, Signor Gil Blas, you behold in me: I am the fruit of that dreadful pregnancy.
  • She snuggled on Daves chest and then a tidal wave of disorientation spread through her like wildfire. Tony continued to the bathroom as Sarah quickly sat up and checked to see if she was wearing clothes. She was wearing a bra and panties and had trouble locating her shirt, which wound up under the covers. Sarah stopped briefly to check out Daves full, tent-pitching, morning package. Her left eyebrow rose until she remembered her boyfriend, albeit a cheating, asshole of a boyfriend.
  • "We left them at the fortress. I told them to watch the gates. It gives them something to do, and makes them feel useful," replied Tallin, his red curls bobbing as he spoke. Tallin was handsome, fine-featured, but short and stocky. A thick scar ran from his cheek down to his shoulder, and disappeared below his tunic. Tallins dragon, Duskeye, also bore evidence of grievous wounds, including a pronounced limp and a cloudy right eye, which was sightless. Neither one ever talked about the source of their injuries.
  • Though most of his wounds had healed, Peten Ross still walked with a limp, and not a moment passed that he did not feel pain. Yet no one showed him the slightest bit of favor or kindness--he was just another refugee, lumped in with commoners and men he wouldn't let shine his boots. The stench alone was enough to make him want to escape, but it was the chance to prove his bravery and worth to Roset and everyone else that was too alluring to resist.
  • The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin, Auburn, and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada. 'Cisco was reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were steaming. The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now approaching the mountain-sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which seemed ilde;´vo Diccion¡rio prefere solicitar.
  • No need to ask what was the assailant. Only one beast, "the devil of the woods," was capable of such an attack. And Dick's heart throbbed as he stood beside that frantic turmoil, lighted only by the uncertain flicker of the fire, and waited for a chance of getting in a thrust, fearing also, lest in striking the lynx, he should wound Peter Many-Names. But on the instant of thinking this, the chance came. Peter's unyielding hands were grasping the beast's throat, and as they rolled over and over, its gaunt side was fully exposed for a moment, and Dick drove in the knife up to the handle.
  • These products have a high water content, which is why they are of value in wound debridement.
  • She walked up to the Doctor and slowly sat down beside him, she placed her fist on her chest at about the same place the Doctor's wounds were and she closed her eyes.
  • When fishing is allowed from schooners, the natives leave Kadiak for the grounds early in May. Each schooner carries thirty or forty baidarkas and twice as many men. Otters are often found at some distance from shore, and can be seen only when the water is quiet. The natives prefer the bow and arrow to the .40-65 Winchesters the company have given them, even claiming that otter are scarce because they have been driven from their old grounds by the noise of firearms. The bows, four feet long, are very stout, and strongly reinforced with cords of sinew along the back. The arrows, a little under a yard in length, are tipped with a well-polished piece of whalebone. A sharp and barbed piece of whale's tooth fits into a hole bored in the end of the bone, and a cord of considerable length is tied to the detachable arrow head, the other end of the cord being wound around and fastened to the middle of the shaft.
  • He waited until they were gone before prescribing himself a liberal dose of cocaine, a renowned analgesic. He promised himself he would sprinkle some on the wound when he changed the bandages later.
  • Dismounting, he wound the horse through the rubble, careful of his footing. He could not afford for his horse to go lame. At the edge of the rock door he knelt, scraped his hand across the back of a small, sandy rock that had been formed by wind, water and time to resemble a ladder. He felt the sharp prick of the metal latch, cursed softly, and then tripped it. Taking two paces back, he waited.
  • But of more vital importance than that, to him, was his stiffness and soreness. As he walked along, each step was an effort and a torment. Severely as the reflected sunlight from the cement sidewalk hurt his bruised eye, and severely as his various wounds pained him, still more severely did he suffer from his muscles and joints. He had never imagined such stiffness. Each individual muscle in his whole body protested when called upon to move. His fingers were badly swollen, and it was agony to clasp and unclasp them; while his arms were sore from wrist to elbow. This, he said to himself, was caused by the many blows which he had warded off from his face and body. He wondered if Brick Simpson was in similar plight, and the thought of their mutual misery made him feel a certain kinship for that redoubtable young ruffian.
  • "For grief that they are past recovery!" groans the earl. "Were there hope to conquer them again, my sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears! Anjou and Maine!—myself did win them both!—those provinces these arms of mine did conquer! And are the cities that I got with wounds delivered up again with peaceful words?" He scowls. "Mon Dieu!"
  • Weft thread is wound on a shuttle which is passed through the shed to create the cloth.
  • I'm afraid not, he said. "There wasn't anything to it but a lot of corks strung together. They were wound around you like a belt."
  • Barbara, or "Barbie" as her friends called her, was so trained to all of the running in her life that most men only lasted a short time with her and were thrust off the bucking bronco. She was as unsettled as a drunk walking to an AA meeting and passing a bar along the way. There had been a stable of guys, mostly football players and juice-heads that wound up playing tonsil hockey with Barbara in high school and college. Most of these guys got to second base and were running so fast that there was no stopping them going to third base, but there wasnt a single guy that was able to go the distance and round the bases. They all claimed to their friends that they "went deep," but all the lot of them displayed was "warning track power."
  • "You fools!" cries the termagant. "I and my fellows are ministers of Fate!—the elements of which your harsh swords are tempered may as well wound the loud winds, or with mocked-at stabs kill the still-closing waters, as diminish one feather thats in my plume! My fellow ministers are alike invulnerable!"
  • Tika took a step towards him, her sword slipping from her fingers. She knelt by his head, lifting it to her lap. Then she looked at the gaping wound deep along his neck.
  • Flagstone decorated the base of the house, extending halfway up the second floor. Situated on the northern side of the house was a detached garage with enough room for four full-sized RVs with room to spare. The southern side of the house contained the beginnings of an immense Victorian garden that wrapped around the western side of the mansion, stretching all the way up to the edge of the forest. A small, gurgling creek wound through the gardens before returning to the forest at the northwestern perimeter of the property.
  • She rushed down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she was met with a terrible sight. It was Caya. The once proud warrior was at death's door. Blood was dried over a dozen wounds, and still ran from a half-dozen more. She looked as though she had ridden the whole night through without rest, soaked to the skin from the freezing rain and muttering, as though she had something important to say, but no words would come.
  • Not permanently. It causes a local sore or a cyst, like the tiniest kind of a blister, in the middle of which the larva of the mussel is safely curled up and stays there until fully developed. Then the cyst breaks, the mussel drops out, and the tiny wound heals rapidly. Even a small fish, four inches in length, can carry five hundred of these little creatures on its fins and in its gills without serious injury.
  • Gracious Lord! exclaimed Kmita; "our people have sinned grievously; they are guilty, and the hand of God is punishing them justly; but still, by the wounds of Christ, there has not been found among that people, and God grant that there will never be found, a man who would raise his hand on the sacred person of the anointed of God."
  • Reaching a hand up to his head reflexively, Aiden felt the place where he had been struck by the axe, only to find the weapon had been removed, and the wound closed. His momentary relief was immediately overwhelmed by the realisation that he was lying down amidst a pile of broken and bloodied corpses, half-covered by the snow, and his friends were in trouble somewhere nearby. The dragon had commented that they didn't have a lot of time left, but hadn't told Aiden why, or what had happened to them.
  • As he thus reflected, he felt the sensation we have described, and which had hitherto been unknown to him, arise in his bosom, and fill him with vague apprehensions. It is thus that a wounded man trembles instinctively at the approach of the finger to his wound until it be healed, but Villefort's was one of those that never close, or if they do, only close to reopen more agonizing than ever. If at this moment the sweet voice of Renee had sounded in his ears pleading for mercy, or the fair Mercedes had entered and said, "In the name of God, I conjure you to restore me my affianced husband," his cold and trembling hands would have signed his release; but no voice broke the stillness of the chamber, and the door was opened only by Villefort's valet, who came to tell him that the travelling carriage was in readiness.
  • He saw nothing beyond the twisting, shifting darkness of the shadows that surrounded him. His vision was restricted to the tightly wound area which the trees allowed. Though the trees relinquished space in his immediate vicinity, they completely filled the rest of the expanse. There was nothing to see but an endless wake of dark trunks and black branches filled with thick sludge.
  • "Yeah, Im listening, you can turn down the volume a bit. Firstly, I have staunchly vowed not to get kidnapped any time soon. Secondly, Id like the knife wound in my stomach to heal over enough that it doesnt hurt when I breathe. I havent thought much farther than that."
  • Mirra stared at him, not understanding his wish to torture her. No one had been cruel to her before, and she wondered why it pleased him so. Her hands wound together in an agony of vacillation at the terrible choice that he forced her to make. Mord arrived outside the open flap with two more trolls, who dragged the hapless Benton.
  • April quailed. She could not bear the peaceful drifting to end, and wished for no reminder of that outer world where Bellew, the mail-boat for England, and the dreary task of breaking an old man's heart awaited her. Sometimes in spite of herself she was obliged to consider these things, and the considering threw shadows under her eyes and hollowed her cheeks. Sarle, too, though he was a dream by day, became very real at night when she should have been dreaming. She knew now that she could never escape from the memory of him, and the thought that he was suffering from her silence and defection tortured her. What must he think of her, slinking guiltily away without a word of explanation or farewell? Doubtless Kenna would set him right! "Faithful are the wounds of a friend," she thought bitterly. Better far and braver to have done the explaining and setting right herself, if only she could have found some way of releasing herself from the compact of silence made with Diana and Bellew.
  • Now that my father was with us, having his wound as proof that he had taken part in the battle, we could no longer hope to pass ourselves off as cowards who remained at home while others were fighting for us, and in event of being captured in the city I believed we would receive rougher usage than those taken prisoners on the battle-field.
  • The General nodded, bowed and lurched out of the room, trying his best not to limp. He made it all the way to the end of the hall and to the set of stairs before he finally acknowledged the wound and treated his left leg as if it were heavier than his right. There he spent a moment in thought. Either he could descend, exit the castle and ride west to his home, Roane. Or he could remain, stay in one of the many empty rooms on this floor and quite possibly suffer another verbal and physical onslaught from Idimusof which he believed he deserved. So he left the stairs, turned back and crept down a side hall he had originally passed. Soldiers and servants alike refusing to look him in the eye. He slammed the door to a random room and remained standing in the middle for a long while, refusing to attend to his wound out of fear and respect. He felt it was penance and would accept the pain willinglyeven occasionally digging his finger into it as a sharp reminder of his failure.
  • Thad soon knew that he had done the right thing. The knot had been properly placed, so that the pressure upon the artery above the wound prevented any more blood being pumped that way by the excited action of the man's heart.
  • Jorden shook his head and moved on along the path, a path that wound its way around the low, forested ridge to the odd house of Tsarin.
  • Or had he? Spilkas had been about to slice his head from his body with that flaming sword of his when the sword had turned on its master instead. Fradis better instincts had deserted him in the heat of the moment, thats how the trouble had started. Instead of abandoning the girl to her fate and fleeing, he had turned to fight the maniac Spilkas; had landed a death blow dead center, too, only to have his own sword lash back and then melt over his hand. So that was why his hand hurt so much... But then there had been Spilkas fighting his own weapon and going into an epileptic fit, and Fradi had taken that final opportunity to scramble out of the place before being entombed once and for all under a building-full of fiery rubble. Out? Yes, he remembered he had made it to the outside wall, where he had experienced a momentary collapse, but there had been no further mortal wounds that he could recall, nothing but the collapse and faint...
  • With his own dagger he cut two strips of cloth from his cape and bound one around the wound and one above it to slow the bleeding. His arm was throbbing from wrist to shoulder.
  • The honest major was so warmed to his subject that he might have discoursed upon it indefinitely, had he not been startlingly interrupted. He and his wife were retracing their steps toward the house, and, as before, the Scotch maid, with her toddling charge, was some paces behind them. At a wild scream from the girl those in advance turned in time to see the flying form of a young Indian, who had just emerged from the near-by forest, fall headlong at her feet. His naked body was pierced by wounds, and his strength was evidently exhausted. As he fell, a second Indian, in whose right hand gleamed a deadly tomahawk, leaped from the woodland shadows, and, with a yell of triumph, bounded toward his intended victim. He was closely followed by two others.
  • I had hoped to find you dead, M'seur, he repeated in a voice so low it could not have been heard beyond the door. "That is why I did not bind your wound and give you water when they turned you over to my care. I wanted you to bleed to death. It would have been easier--for both of us."
  • As soon as it was dark the boys were wrapped up in dark cloths and carried away through the streets. As many dead bodies were being similarly taken off by the natives no questions were asked, nor did the soldiers now scattered about interfere with their bearers. The motion started the boys' wounds into bleeding again. They had difficulty in breathing through the cloths bound round them, and when they were at last thrown heavily down upon the ground their consciousness had almost entirely left them.
  • Impregnated dressing, clean the wound with iodine or alcohol daily and cover with a dry dressing.
  • The general sense of it I could follow, myself. Ingra, metaphorically, stormed and Ala commanded. That she was defending us was plain, and it was but natural that my admiration for this wonderful woman should rise to the highest pitch. I thanked God, in my heart, that her wound could be no more than a scratch--and yet it was a wound, inflicted upon the person of her who, there could be no doubt, was the ruler of a powerful empire. It was less majesty, or worse, and she, herself, might not be able to protect us against its consequences.
  • Bry wound down her window and put her hands on the steering wheel. Spencer held his together in his lap, hoping that would stop them moving around too much. He hid his bandaged thumb. A policeman came to Bry's side of the car and stood level with the central pillar. He bent down to look inside the car, one hand resting on his gun. He was middle-aged and a little overweight with a chubby close-shaven face and a passable tan; a genuine city cop or a very well-casted impostor.
  • The big doctor put his hand on the shoulder of his wife and roared until the house shook with his laughter. It was impossible to resist the infection, and Wilbur, despite his headache, found himself laughing with the rest. But the doctor's wife, stepping quietly forward, took the lad aside and, removing the handkerchief that Grier had wound around his head, bathed the wound and cleansed it. She had just finished this when the doctor came over, still laughing. He touched the wound deftly, and Wilbur was amazed to find that the touch of this large, hearty man was just as soft and tender as that of his wife.
  • I gave off my looking around for a clean cloth or a source of running water as she stretched her hand out toward me and passed it slowly down from my head toward my feet. Aquamarine coils wound out around me like a small tornado. I felt as though something was scouring my skin with a stiff brush, but the grime and mud were lifting free of my clothes and spinning off into the tornado and showering onto the ground. In a moment I was cleaner than Id been in, well, awhile. "Thanks," I said. "That was certainly timely, as well as handy."
  • Then I got a good look at the carcass. He was old, wretchedly thin, scarred about his bleary, dead eyes, nearly toothless and as worn- looking as an old hearth-rug. I saw where my first shot had struck him above the shoulder. The arrow, which was broken off in the wound, had jabbed in and plowed along under the skin for six or eight inches. The second had ripped through the flesh of his right fore leg, leaving a gash which the brute had widened when he broke the shaft out, sidewise, in his thrashing. The last shot had sent the envenomed flint tearing into his breast, an inch below the throat, where it had penetrated to a considerable depth. It also was broken, but a tough shred of the wood still held the feathered portion dangling from the wound.
  • There was a choice of two ways when I reached the panch mahal, for it was feasible to enter through the lower door, which was apparently unguarded, and climb the stone stairway that wound inside the wall. However, I chose the marble front steps, and barked my knuckles on the door at the top.
  • Our ragtag army wound its way slowly down through the pass to the base of the escarpment. The air seemed sickly sweet as we approached the city. The cloying scent hung thickly about us and made the skin moist and clammy. It was as if the air were so thick with disease that the viruses had become a palpable thing.
  • Mr. Pettiway later declared it was the worst trip ever. He'd somehow ended up the stream, staggered back soaking wet and wound up in the hospital with pneumonia. Still, he felt lucky. When the hook had reached out and seized him by the collar, and he'd been spun around and seen that look in those eyes, he thought for sure he was a goner.
  • Arterial insufficiency will affect the ability of any wound to heal.
  • Feeling in somewhat better spirits after having eaten, and after having had an opportunity to dry themselves, the tourists brought out their automobiles again, and soon Simpson's Corners was left behind. They had a long hill to climb, and then the road wound in and out among some particularly rough rocks. Then they came out along the edge of a cliff with a vast panorama of woods and waters below them.
  • An older lady, she didnt take anyone with her, but she fought well enough. Which delayed the inevitable for a few seconds. She had great sticks, though, so he gave her a mortal wound so he could transfer her wands as she died. He stopped her cursing by stomping on her jaw.
  • It was evidently no time for hesitation. The boys took off their waistcoats, jackets, and trousers, then the guard picked up from a bundle lying beside him three women's dresses, and wound them round them, bringing an end as usual over the head and falling down to the eyes. Then he put on the thick blue veil, extending across the face just under the eyes and falling down to the waist. The disguise was thus completed, and the three boys were transformed into Egyptian peasant women, of whom only the eyes were visible.
  • Plucking a flower, she gazed sadly around the bright garden, thinking of the terrible things that had started happening all over the land. Demons were rising, no longer bound now that only two wards remained. They terrorised villages, burning and killing, taking human form and tricking people, sleeping with women disguised as their husbands, torturing children in the form of a parent. Possessions happened every day, and lay preachers had their hands full performing exorcisms. Her heart bled for their suffering, but she was helpless to do anything other than heal their wounds and pray to the Lady for guidance. Bane had not turned from his task. The black ship still dragged the white one with it towards destruction.
  • As time passed the men spoke less frequently to each other. Grant joshed his mate roughly, once or twice, masking beneath an assumption of jocularity his own vague irritation at the change that had come over them. It was as if he had probed at an open wound with clumsy fingers.
  • The shark lost interest and disappeared. Ben would still have liked to know what lurked behind him in the inky blackness. He concentrated on moving ahead. The wall of coral closed up in front of him. Ben moved along it to the right. He found an opening and moved through. It led him to another wall of coral and a dead end. He backed out and moved further along the wall to the right. He could hear the dull roar of the crashing waves above. The second opening led him through a narrow passage in the coral. It wound in for several metres and turned abruptly left. Ben was hoping this wasnt another dead end.
  • The track wound in serpentine fashion, now skirting a town, now going straight through a rancho whence the occupants had fled. By late afternoon the pursuers were within half a dozen miles of Durango; but here the trackmore visible than ever now, in the long grass to which they had comebroke away at an obtuse angle, towards the more hilly ground on their right. The doctor pulled up, and he and von Tempsky began to confer with the soldiers. Horses and mules and men were all jaded, urged Steel; and the trail might lead them on through another allnight journey; and to no purpose. Why not ride for the town, take a short rest, and beat up recruits?
  • While Vespasian was directing the attack, he was struck by a javelin in the heel. The Romans ceased from the attack and crowded round their general but, as soon as they ascertained that his wound was not serious, they returned to the attack with redoubled fury.
  • The woman withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of the patient. The wounds of the face were superficial. The real injury was a depressed fracture of the skull, extending right up through the motor area.
  • "Every fool and now you, Pence. So you seeno harm done." With that, the gardener looked down for the first time to inspect the selfsame wound he had just selflessly dismissed. "Of course, the fact that I seem to be turning into petrified wood is some cause for concern. Come over here."
  • Joy that she should be so little hurt, and the love of her brave nature, supported me. I embraced her, I kissed the wound.
  • "Remove the dagger." She said. She laid a hand on the wound and cast a healing spell. She felt confident performing a task that she had been trained for. Almost instantly she could feel the heartbeat strengthen through the back. The boy stirred. Darius rolled him over and cradled his head.
  • We called to soldiers to bear his body and having set the pursuit, with that royal clay entered into Amada in triumph. It was not a very great town and the temple was its finest building and thither we wended. In the outer court we found Pharaoh lying at the point of death, for from many wounds his life drained out with his flowing blood, nor could the leeches help him.
  • The blood, instead of spurting from the knife wounds, oozed forth thick and sluggishly; whereupon Dick, without a second's hesitation, applied his lips to the gashes, which were close together, and sucked strongly for about a quarter of an hour, spitting out the blood which gradually began to flow a little more freely. Finally, when the flow had ceased, he groped in his pocket and produced a small case containing a stick of lunar caustic; then from another pocket he drew forth a box of matches, which he handed to Grosvenor.
  • The next couple of dates enabled me to refocus on what I wasnt looking for in a woman. The first female posted a picture on her MarryJew profile that was at least ten years old. Needless to say, the girl with the curl wound up being the old bag with the sag and some significant hair loss. The wide view of her scalp made me think that "Maybe a picture doesnt say a thousand words." She spooked me out so much that I gave her a wrong number and e-mail address when she hounded me at the end of the date. I have never used deception on a date but this undercover operation was merely an act of survival.
  • Hal turned to the two soldiers, who had leaped on the overturned piano to get at him before he stepped from behind it, and again his sword darted out. The thrust went true, and one soldier fell to the floor, blood streaming from a deep wound in his chest.
  • ISRAEL KENSKY died at five o'clock in the morning. They had made a rough attempt to dress the wound in his shoulder, but, had they been the most skilful of surgeons with the best appliances which modern surgery had invented at their hands, they could not have saved his life. He died literally in the arms of Irene, and they buried him in a little forest on the edge of a sluggish stream, and Cherry Bim unconsciously delivered the funeral oration.
  • The next three days were counterparts of the first, except that the party met with not a single mishap. Whenever possible they kept to the waterleads, and Bill soon grew sick of the sight of pond lilies. But at times it was necessary to pole their way through the sawgrass. Often the grass had to be cut away in front, and all three suffered from wounds made by its sharp-toothed edges.
  • But there was comfort in numbers, and what no one of them could perhaps have done singly they finally accomplished by taking turns, keeping close together all the while as the ghostly cavalcade wound its way through the woods.
  • The sun now peeped over the rolling hills in the distance, their ridges turning blue-purple. You are the balm that heals my wounds, he repeated. The balm. What was he going to do about Zhanna?
  • Joel would begin to twist and pull his arms with the makeshift leather sleeves bound around each forearm, apparently trying to wrest his hands free. Nothing was further from the truth. He wanted the moronic bandits to grab even tighter, which they often did when he began his struggle. This in turn only aggravated their inevitable injuries. The spikes would jab into the palms of their hand. Then, when Joel twisted his own arm, the metal would slice large gouges into their skin. Eventually, they would realize what was happening and let go, but by then it was too late as their hands appeared more like raw, battered meat. While they stood gaping at their own wounds, Joel showed no such hesitation and used the same armored forearm to smash them in the face.
  • That night we embarked in whaleboats. There were about two hundred men in our party. It was made up of a few of Gage's light infantry, under Captain Dunbar, and the rest were Rangers, among whom were fifty Mohegan Indians from Stockbridge. We rowed over to the east shore and went down the lake. Several canoes were sent ahead to warn us if any of the enemy were out. Cloth was wound round our oars where they rested in the rowlocks. We had orders not to utter a word, to make no noise.
  • Suddenly he felt a sharp inner pain as if his spirit had been wound about with wire, and he screeched aloud into the darkness. Then he heard a little voice, speaking as if from within himself, quick and excited: ‘Nicovar,’ it mocked, ‘shadow of vainglorious Aldragon, foremost of the hated sons of Yoal, arbiter of hollow pride, trumpet of the Sun!’
  • Magnitskys associates, though, keep looking for the cash. An investigation spearheaded by his former client, Hermitage Capital Management, a London-based investment fund, has traced $134 million through bank accounts and shell companies in at least 17 countries. Banking records obtained by Hermitage and reviewed by Bloomberg Businessweek show that millions wound up in offshore accounts and real estate owned by Russian officials, their relatives, and the former owner of a Russian bank. Authorities in four of these countries confirm that they have opened money-laundering investigations.
  • Jain and Coursa looked at each other. Coursa grinned. They left with Eduard and followed a path that led up a steady grade. The path wound its way for a few miles into the woods without incident. Then a goat kid jumped out into the middle of the trail and stared at them with one of its eyes. Goatseyes had always bothered Jain. The pupils were weirdly rectangle shaped, like some animal that did not belong in the mortal world. As weird as the eyes were, Jain always thought she could detect a vague malice in them.
  • I freaked out completely at the sight of the open wound cos im really squeamish at the best of times.
  • Well, maybe I'm wrong about it, for I never had much to do with water or the sea, admitted Mr. Carson. "But it was some sort of a cork jacket. It was made from a lot of bottle corks, all strung together, and wound around in a sort of belt."
  • Allows the caliper piston to be wound back for the fitting of new brake pads.
  • The pony balked, but finally gave way under protest, and they rode on into the jungle. A bridle path wound through the undergrowth and between the trees, and this they followed.
  • "When something is shot with an arrow you start to bleed out, but the arrow plugs the wound. Once removed the wound bleeds a lot, so you have to wait until a healer is around to pull it. But not with this arrow. You see these holes at the front of it?" he said, placing it in Sashas hand and pointing out the holes.
  • He heard the sound of the blade being resheathed, and thought about trying to struggle. But the man moved quickly, pushing him into the fence with a hand between his shoulders as he rattled something off his belt. He grabbed Russs right arm and pulled it around, clamping metal around his wrist. Russ jerked, grabbing a bar with his left hand and biting back a yelp as his right arm screamed in pain. The man twisted, shoving his shoulder into Russs back and yanking hard on the chain clamped to his wrist. The wound tore open and Russ felt dizzy again. His knees buckled and he knew the only thing holding him up was the fence and attacker. The man grabbed hold of his left arm and brought it around to clamp into the restraint, then he yanked him away from the fence.
  • When the Wolf, holding fast to Asa's shoulder, slipped into the shadows of the Park, Beany raced across the asphalt drive and knelt beside the little Weasel. He lay a crumpled, limp heap, and at first Beany thought him dead. There was a faint flutter, however, as Beany felt his heart, and, turning him gently over, Beany opened his shirt and uncovered the vicious looking wound where the Wolf's dagger point had entered.
  • Catten's gold eyes were molten with anger. All five of his nails glowed red hot as he tore out the flesh of the man's thigh in a single stroke. Blood poured from the gaping hole in the man's leg, dripping into a pool on the ground. The man squirmed and shook as the underling's hot hand cauterized the wound closed. The scent of burnt flesh and hair brought a small grin to the underling's face. The man's head slumped into his chest.
  • "No," he said, "she is going to be gone all day today. She has set and wound the drum in the belfry so that the carillon shall play every hour while she is absent."
  • Thank you very much, he returned. "Yes, I feel actually comfortable once more. Don Manuel has dressed and bound up my wounds, applying soothing salves to them, and altogether tinkering me up until I am pretty nearly as good as new. But, Hawkesley, my dear boy, are we in our sober senses, or is this only a delightful dream? I can scarcely realise that I am awake; that we are actually among our fellow-men once more; and that I am surrounded by the walls and sheltered by the roof of a material house, in which, as it seems to me, we are likely to enjoy a good many of the comforts of civilisation. But come," as he settled himself into a loose white flannel jacket, "let us join our host, who, I have reason to believe, is awaiting our presence at his dinner-table. Heave ahead, Pedro, my lad; we're quite ready to weigh."
  • As she drew away the hair, washed the wound and bound it up with a strip from her own dress, she was filled with a divine gladness. Not only was she doing that which she wished most to do, but she was making repayment. He would have died there had she not found him, and no one else would have found him in that lone spot.
  • There are women who prefer to see the men whom they love kept back by a wound in order that they might escape a further danger, but not of such was Helen. Prescott remembered, too, the single glance, like a solitary signal shot, that had passed between her and Mrs. Markham.
  • There she is now, he said quietly and I looked up and saw her, heading my way. It was her, it was Anne, the same girl who had died. I know it wasn't only some lookalike. She was almost exactly the same except now along with her rags she was wearing a scarf wound up to her chin. She came straight for the newsstand, didn't seem to see Andy. He was just staring at her, and me? I was gaping at one, then the other, then back.
  • Jacob slid out of the robe and went to her bathroom. He flicked on the light. His body was covered with bruises and scars and hair. The hair on his head was down to his shoulders. A thick beard covered his face. His nails were yellow and long. He couldnt let Trish see him like this! He tore through the cabinets until he found a package of razors. He ripped it open, splashed some water on his face, and began to shave. He opened up several wounds on his face, but they clotted quickly. He cut his nails with a pair of kitchen shears since the clippers he found werent nearly strong enough. Finally he stepped into the shower. The water was soft and warmlike Trish. He stood there for several minutes, letting the hot water rinse off the filth and blood and horrors. The water began to run cold, he had almost exhausted the tanks supply. He stepped out into the mist and dried off with Trishs towel, still damp from earlier use.
  • "Yeah, just a scratch!" he chuckled back. "Well I guess I should be moving on," the mau continued, after a final inspection of his wounds, "I have a long way to go."
  • Instead of running, I stayed and took a beating until I could get the frosting uncorked. An all-out food fight then ensued in my kitchen and we all wound up on the floor in a complete mess. Kathy and I started kissing, as Kim said she was going to take a shower. The girls seemed to be very territorial with their men and it seemed that the taller Kathy wanted first crack at chopping down the big tree.
  • Pan Shandarovski was wild as a hurricane, and ate into the Swedes as a famished wolf buries his jaws in the flesh of a freshly killed horse; but one horseman surpassed him in fury, and that was the youth who had first let them know that the Swedes were in Rudnik, and now had sprung in with the whole squadron on the enemy. The priest's colt, three years old, which till that time had walked quietly over the land, shut in by the horses, could not break out of the throng; you would have said he had gone mad, like his master. With ears thrown back, with eyes bursting out of his head, with erect mane, he pushed forward, bit, and kicked; but the lad struck with his sabre as with a flail; he struck at random, to the right, to the left, straight ahead; his yellow forelock was covered with blood, the points of rapiers had been thrust into his shoulders and legs, his face was cut; but these wounds only roused him. He fought with madness, like a man who has despaired of life and wishes only to avenge his own death.
  • "I'm sorry, Mrs Crick, when I heard from your husband I looked up the press coverage." Our voice stays nice and smooth but the ghost's seriously wound up now. "Perhaps, in the circumstances, it was not the best way to get an understanding of the situation."
  • He stepped between his cousins and laid his hand on the foot of his uncle. It brought a snarl from the old man, a snarl that made Bull straighten and step back, but he came again and put aside the shaking hand of Uncle Bill. His cousins stood at one side, literally quaking. It was the first time that they had actually seen their father defied. They saw the huge hand of Bull settle around the leg of their father, well below the wound and then the grip closed to avoid the danger of opening the wound when the boot was worked off. After this he pulled the tight riding boot slowly from the swollen foot.
  • Vodka was but seldom smuggled in, the difficulty of bringing it in being great, and the punishment of those detected in doing so being severe. At times, however, a supply was brought in, being carried, as Godfrey found, in skins similar to those used for sausages, filled with the spirit and wound round and round the body. These were generally brought in when one or other of the prisoners had received a remittance, as most of them were allowed to receive a letter once every three months; and these letters, in the case of men who had once been in a good position, generally contained money. This privilege was only allowed to men after two years' unbroken good conduct.
  • She unfolded one hand and motioned to the jug. "I dont know how many of those youve gone through. Quite a few. At first we used sponges, but then when your wounds began to close up enough we filled the tub up with it and let you soak for a while." She wasnt looking at him as she talked. "You would have died, otherwise, of course. You lost a great deal of blood. You dont have very much blood in you right now, Russell Markson. You have water in your veins."
  • He remembered his shock when the Red Baron thumped his forces near Paris just a few years ago. The sight of someone with flames that long nearly gave him a heart attack. He immediately put the president of Mongolian University in charge of identifying him. Given the thousands of wounds the Baron earned over many years, he must be ancient, so they started with the oldies and worked their way through the decades. Right away they could eliminate the big guys and those who didnt speak Mongolian fluently, and concentrated on the famous heroes because why else would the Baron always cover his face? He placed a reward for his identity, or at least a good image of his face, but then the bastard disappeared for nearly two years. They finally narrowed it down to a few hundred powerful quads. Now with him dead, hopefully he could finally find out who the Baron really was.
  • I managed to cut the rest of the conversation short but as I walked away I couldnt help but wonder what sort of people collect in a hardware store to analyze someone elses paint swatches. Admittedly there likely wasnt any implied confidentiality in selecting and purchasing paint, but the public disclosure of my choice sort of bothered me. Humbugs version of small town life had a much slower pace than I could have imagined without experiencing it first hand. The most difficult consequence of this slow pace was the rate of the contractors. The renovation, which should have taken five weeks, wound up taking well over 7 months.
  • Some three or four and twenty corpses lay there, with the blood still slowly oozing in a few instances from wounds in various parts of their bodies.
  • Danodel stuck his torch into the earth and walked forward to meet him. The outcome was obvious from the first blow, for though Melivar was quick in spirit and strategy his weight was insufficient to tell against his bulky brother, and he was snorting for air through his bound nostrils before Danodel had even begun to pant. The contest lasted for less than five minutes, and when Melivar sank to his knees with the blood running from a hundred wounds Danodel stood malignantly above him bearing no cut longer than a single claw.
  • Again Landlord Larry was the speaker, and he began by asking if the unfortunate stranger, whose wound had crazed him, was in the crowd.
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