With acting, I started very young, and I'd performed for a lot of children in boarding schools, late at night after the dormitory lights were out. I'd have a flashlight, and I'd be Count Dracula, or Shakespeare, or Yogi Bear, and leap from bunk to bunk. I loved the laughter; I liked the way it made people feel.
C. C. H. Pounder
He lay in bed staring upward into the darkness. On the bunk above him, he could hear Peter turning and tossing restlessly. Then Peter slid off the bunk and walked out of the room. Ender heard the hushing sound of the toilet clearing; then Peter stood silhouetted in the doorway. He thinks I'm asleep. He's going to kill me. Peter walked to the bed, and sure enough, he did not lift himself up to his bed. Instead he came and stood by Ender's head. But he did not reach for a pillow to smother Ender. He did not have a weapon. He whispered, "Ender, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know how it feels, I'm sorry, I'm your brother, I love you." A long time later, Peter's even breathing said that he was asleep. Ender peeled the bandaid from his neck. And for the second time that day he cried.
Orson Scott Card
Crooks stood up from his bunk and faced her. "I had enough, " he said coldly. "You got no rights comin' in a colored man's room. You got no rights messing around in here at all. Now you jus' get out, an' get out quick. If you don't, I'm gonna ast the boss not to ever let you come in the barn no more." She turned on him in scorn. "Listen, Nigger, " she said. "You know what I can do to you if you open your trap?" Crooks stared helplessly at her, and then he sat down on his bunk and drew into himself. She closed on him. "You know what I could do?" Crooks seemed to grow smaller, and he pressed himself against the wall. "Yes, ma'am." "Well, you keep your place then, Nigger. I could get you strung up on a tree so easy it ain't even funny." Crooks had reduced himself to nothing. There was no personality, no ego-nothing to arouse either like or dislike. He said, "Yes, ma'am, " and his voice was toneless. For a moment she stood over him as though waiting for him to move so that she could whip at him again; but Crooks sat perfectly still, his eyes averted, everything that might be hurt drawn in. She turned at last to the other two.
I just totally do not believe in this sort of Bart Simpson character who infects so much of our literature and film and TV stuff nowadays, these know-it-all kids who seem to understand the hypocrisy of the adult world so thoroughly and can talk about it with such articulateness. That's bunk.
All these people who think they deserve free health care, or a job, or a plasma screen TV, simply because they radiate heat at 98.6 degrees, or because they were born in a certain place, or because they have a certain skin color - it's all bunk. There's no such thing as a 'just' wage. There's only what you earn.
We've all tried to bunk our gym session or dance class. A single routine can get monotonous. That's why I have decided to make my fitness regime fun by incorporating different workouts into my schedule. From dancing to yoga, I plan to keep it as interesting as possible so I'm never bored of working out.
Proficiency in art is a contract with your self and the empowerment of your self. Not all of us demand or even desire proficiency, but for those who do it's necessary to temper the influence of groups. And while some artists think history is bunk, the historical evidence is overwhelming: "In my isolation I grow stronger."
That wasn't the way that things was supposed to be. And all because the so-called culture that I thought was right, that I thought it was cool, and I thought it was fun, and it was exciting at the time. It all led to me laying in a prison bunk by myself with no one to talk to but myself.
Along with some of my college friends, I would often bunk classes and drive to Murthal, which is about 50 km from New Delhi, just to have some piping hot parathas. There was this small roadside dhaba where they would serve absolutely delicious aloo parathas with dollops of butter.
Sushant Singh Rajput
There are moments we return to, now and always. Family is like water-it has a memory of what it once filled, always trying to get back to the original stream. I was on the bottom bunk again, listening to his slumber verses. The flap of our childhood letter box opened. Opening the door to the spray of sea.
I smoke as much as I want and chew tobacco a good deal of the time. I don't pay any attention to the rules for keeping in physical condition. I think they are a lot of bunk. The less you worry about the effect of tea and coffee on the lining of your stomach, the longer you will live, and the happier you will be.
Life is not to be taken seriously, as we are really temporary here. We are like a pre-paid card with limited validity. If we are lucky, we may last another 50 years. And 50 years is just 2,500 weekends. Do we really need to get so worked up? It's ok, bunk a few classes, goof up a few interviews, fall in love. We are people, not programmed devices.
It's a shadelight, " Grimm said quietly. "Some of my men put one up whenever I lose a member of the crew. To light his shade's way back to his bunk, so he can rest." "A bit heathen of them, I suppose, " Benedict said. "It's a tradition, " Grimm said. "Were traditions rational, they'd be procedures.
Regin!" He leapt up from a bunk. "Well, well, the gang's all here." Nix must've given him Regin's whereabouts. Again. "I'm going to get you out of here, " he said, his green eyes aglow. She snorted. "Let me know how that works out for you, Job MacBangup." Seeing Brandr here just brought her situation into stark relief. "It's curious though-you don't usually show up until it's time to bury him.
In my new IFC comedy game show, 'Bunk,' we actually use our intern Patrick as a human timer - giving contestants the time it takes for him to wade through a bag of broken glass for a razor blade, to get gum out of his hair, to pick up every strand from a box of spaghetti I spill on the floor, etc, etc.
As a kid, I was terrified. I was a bed wetter and I had to go to sleepaway camp every summer, which was humiliating and terrifying. I had lots of insecurities and scaredness. I covered it with being funny and tough, but it's hard to be tough when you're making your cot in your bunk over soaking wet sheets and acting like nobody can smell anything.
As a young man, I was very interested in how people lived in earlier times; how they got from place to place, lighted their homes, cooked their meals and so on. So I went to the history books. Well, I could find out all about kings and presidents; but I could learn nothing of their everyday lives. So I decided that history is bunk.
When I was nine or 10, I had jumped off of a bunk bed and shattered and dislocated my shoulder. That was on the same arm as the cast was on, which I didn't really put together until I was really starting to feel a little uncomfortable in my shoulder area, and then I was like, 'Oh, this cast is on that arm. That's what that is about.'
Tavi spent an eternity in misery, longing for death to bring sweet release from the unrelenting torment. The others gathered at the side of his bunk on the ship, keeping a deathwatch over him. "I don't see what all the drama is about, " Demos said, his quiet voice filled with habitual disinterst. "He's seasick. It will pass."~Captain's Fury
She found out that having something to do prevented you from feeling seasick, and that even a job like scrubbing a deck could be satisfying, if it was done in a seamanlike way. She was very taken with this notion, and later on she folded the blankets on her bunk in a seamanlike way, and put her possessions in the closet in a seamanlike way, and used 'stow' instead of 'tidy' for the process of doing so. After two days at sea, Lyra decided that this was the life for her.
I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep... Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.
She was around ten minutes late, as a matter of fact. I didn't give a damn, though. All that crap they have in cartoons in the Saturday Evening Post and all, showing guys on street corners looking sore as hell because their dates are late - that's bunk. If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she's late? Nobody.
The new supplants the old. Yet men's minds are stuffed with outworn bunk. Educating the young in the latest findings of authorities and scholars in the social sciences is important. It is equally important to devise ways and means for aiding the middle-aged and old to reexamine hang-over unscientific doctrines and ideas in the light of recent discovery and research.
Mary Barnett Gilson
Given the power and influence that science increasingly has in our daily lives, it is important that we as citizens of an open and democratic society learn to separate good science from bunk. This is not just a matter of intellectual curiosity, as it affects where large portions of our tax money go, and in some cases even whether people's lives are lost as a result of nonsense.
These are the moments. These are the moments where you realize love is everywhere if you look closely. When you realize happiness isn't next weekend, and it's not last week, it's right now. That was one of the best nights of my life. It felt good to know purpose. I lay in my bunk and I think of all the stories I'm in. I think about all the stories that are in my story. I think about all the stories that are left to be written. And it might be my favorite book yet.
To switch lads and lassies from quickie ceremonies back to the catered works in to-be-worm-only-once white dresses, the [wedding] garment producers have turned to sociology. Through statistics as carefully laid out as a bridal train, they are establishing a correlation showing a higher divorce rate for the informally gowned.... They may just have something there.... If a bride has sunk a bunk of savings into a dress she can't use again in a second wedding, she might think twice about having a second.
He takes my face in his hands and presses his lips against mine - a tender, beautiful kiss - the kiss I've waited for forever. He quickly pulls his shirt over his head and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his muscular body and smooth skin. He pushes Ordinary gently to the bottom of the bunk and climbs in next to me. Wrapping his arms around me, he lays his head next to mine. At last, we sleep.'... from Notes on a Rebellion
I suppose that it was inevitable that my word-base broadened. I could now for the first time pick up a book and read and now begin to understand what the book was saying. Anyone who has read a great deal can imagine the new world that opened. Let me tell you something: from then until I left that prison, in every free moment I had, if I was not reading in the library, I was reading in my bunk. You couldn't have gotten me out of my books with a wedge...Months passed without my even thinking about being imprisoned. In fact, up to then, I never had been so truly free in my life.
All the great game show hosts have a signature 'look,' from Bob Barker's year-round Brazil Nut-hued tan to Monty Hall's oversized lamb chop sideburns. As the host of IFC's new comedy game show 'Bunk,' I, too, have worked to develop a style signature by being the first man or woman in TV history to host every show in my bare feet!
Needs? I guess that is what bothers so many folks. They keep expanding their needs until they are dependent on too many things and too many other people... I wonder how many things in the average American home could be eliminated if the question were asked, "Must I really have this?" I guess most of the extras are chalked up to comfort or saving time. Funny thing about comfort - one man's comfort is another man's misery. Most people do't work hard enough physically anymore, and comfort is not easy to find. It is surprising how comfortable a hard bunk can be after you come down off a mountain.
WELL LONZO SAYS THE COUNTY IS THE SLIPPER, TRIPPER, STUCKER YEARS OF UNSETTLED FUNK AND WHO GETS WHAT BUNK JUNK MAKES YOU FEEL LIKE YOU TOOK A TEST AND FLUNKED TOLD LONZO KICK IT, THE SYSTEM IS WICKED, TRICK IT, PREDICT IT WE GOT A WAY TO LICK IT, GAVE HIM A BOOK, SAID, 'HERE'S THE TICKET' TO LEARNIN HOW WE BEEN AFFLICTED AND WHAT DISTRIBUTIN THAT SHIT DID I MADE A QUICK BID TO SAY, 'DON'T TRIP KID YOU NEVER WORKED FOR THE MOB' LONZO KNEW I WAS RIGHT, NO FIGHT, NOW WE'RE TIGHT NOW HE HANGS WITH US POOR REVOLUTIONARY BROTHERS AND FIVE-OH, MORE THAN EVER WANTS TO FUCK US JUST CAUSE WE KNOW THE ROAD TO RICHES IS CROOKED AND NARROW WE'LL GET MORE POWER FROM A HUNDRED THOUSAND GUN BARRELS
Hermione slid out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker towards Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak, hopeful smile and half-raised his arms. Hermione launched herself forwards and started punching every inch of him that she could reach. 'Ouch - ow - gerroff! What the - ? Hermione - OW!' 'You - complete - arse - Ronald - Weasley!' She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced. 'You - crawl - back - here - after - weeks - and - weeks - oh, where's my wand?' She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry's hands and he reacted instinctively. 'Protego!
Lennie rolled off the bunk and stood up, and the two of them started for the door. Just as they reached it, Curley bounced in. "You seen a girl around here?" he demanded angrily. George said coldly, "'Bout half an hour ago maybe." "Well, what the hell was she doin'?" George stood still, watching the angry little man. He said insultingly, "She said-she was lookin' for you." Curley seemed really to see George for the first time. His eyes flashed over George, took in his height, measured his reach, looked at his trim middle. "Well, which way'd she go?" he demanded at last. "I dunno, " said George. "I didn't watch her go." Curley scowled at him, and turning, hurried out the door. George said, "Ya know, Lennie, I'm scared I'm gonna tangle with that bastard myself. I hate his guts. Jesus Christ! Come on. There won't be a damn thing left to eat.
Morning is an important time of day, because how you spend your morning can often tell you what kind of day you are going to have. For instance, if you wake up to the sound of twittering birds, and find yourself in an enormous canopy bed, with a butler standing next to you holding a breakfast of freshly made muffins and hand-squeezed orange juice on a silver tray, you will know that your day will be a splendid one. If you wake up to the sound of church bells, and find yourself in a fairly big regular bed, with a butler standing next to you holding a breakfast of hot tea and toast on a plate, you will know that your day will be O.K. And if you wake up to the sound of somebody banging two metal pots together, and find yourself in a small bunk bed, with a nasty foreman standing in the doorway holding no breakfast at all, you will know that your day will be horrid.
But he'd also gotten a personal prickly chill all over from his own thinking. He could do the dextral pain the same way: Abiding. No one single instant of it was unendurable. Here was a second right here: he endured it. What was undealable-with was the thought of all the instants all lined up and stretching ahead, glittering. And the projected future fear of the A.D.A., whoever was out there in a hat eating Third World fast food; the fear of getting convicted of Nuckslaugh-ter, of V.I.P.-suffocation; of a lifetime on the edge of his bunk in M.C.I. Walpole, remembering. It's too much to think about. To Abide there. But none of it's as of now real. What's real is the tube and Noxzema and pain. And this could be done just like the Old Cold Bird. He could just hunker down in the space between each heartbeat and make each heartbeat a wall and live in there. Not let his head look over. What's unendurable is what his own head could make of it all. What his head could report to him, looking over and ahead and reporting. But he could choose not to listen; he could treat his head like G. Day or R. Lenz: clueless noise. He hadn't quite gotten this before now, how it wasn't just the matter of riding out the cravings for a Substance: everything unendurable was in the head, was the head not Abiding in the Present but hopping the wall and doing a recon and then returning with unendurable news you then somehow believed.
David Foster Wallace
HEAT'LL MAKE ANYTHING MOVE EVEN TYSON, CAN GET LAID DOWN, WITH THIS TOOL JUST CAUSE THE NAME SAY GOODIE, YOU TAKE US FOR FOOLS OUT THEY RABBIT ASS MIND, DON'T GIVE ME MINE, I GO OFF LIKE MINES BLOWIN SUCKERS TO SMITHEREENS, WE WAS NEVER FOLKS IF WE FELL OUT OVER THIS LIL' CREAM OR LET SOME SOFT LEGS COME IN BETWEEN OUR DREAMS WE LIVE LIKE KINGS, AND DIE LIKE FUCKIN MEN I DON'T CARE HOW ROUGH YOU ROLL, WE CAN'T BE SHUT DOWN AIN'T NO OPENIN UP SHOP, WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED YOU LAP DOGGIN, WE BOSS HOGGIN GROWN MEN, DON'T BEG FOR ATTENTION KEEP WISHIN, HIGH HEELS CLICKIN PAPER CHAMPIONS, LEAVIN WITH THEY FEET BEHIND ZAP EM FOR THE PUMPKIN, AT TWELVE ON THE BOTTOM BUNK, HOLLA AT ME SIX TO THE LEFT, LAST ONE, CAN'T TURN OVER WITH DIRT ON YA SLAIN DEAD, DEVILS, DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TO PURCHASE MY ESSENCE IN DA HEAD, MISSIN OUNCES, ZIP CODE, EIGHT MILES SUCKAS, THINK I GOT THEY PACKAGE BUT THEY STILL EATIN MOO-MOO, OINK-OINK AND FOWL-FOWL-FOWL-FOWL..