I walked across the polished marble floor and sat on a red velvet lounging couch. I idly wondered how exactly one was supposed to lounge. I couldn't remember ever doing it myself. After a moment's consideration, I decided lounging was probably similar to relaxing, but with more money in your pocket.
It takes a while to master the art of hammock-lounging. At first I could only manage five minutes or so before I thought I ought to get out and go and help a child learn how to swim or something. But after observing the Mexicans' capability for staring into space for hours on end, I decided to put in some proper practice.
The truth is I'm a very traditional woman, and Rod - despite everything people may think - is a very traditional man. It's true he absolutely loves glamour, and he hasn't got a conventional job, but performing aside, he's happiest at home with his kids around him or lounging in front of the fire watching a war documentary like 'D-Day Remembered.'
Books, gentlemen, are a species of men, and introduced to them you circulate in the "very best society" that this world can furnish, without the intolerable infliction of "dressing" to go into it. In your shabbiest coat and cosiest slippers you may socially chat even with the fastidious Earl of Chesterfield, and lounging under a tree enjoy the divinest intimacy with my late lord of Verulam.
That demon woman you were lounging with on the divan," said Will. "Would you call her a friend, or more of a business associate?" Benedict's dark eyes hardened. "Insolent puppy""" "Oh, I'd say she was a friend," said Tessa. "One doesn't usually let one's business associates lick one's face. Although I could be wrong. What do I know about these things? I'm only a silly woman.
With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up. Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking, his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James's nor Harry's could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed.
They sped by a pack of sea lions lounging on the docks, and she swore she saw an old homeless guy sitting among them. From across the water the old man pointed a bony finger at Percy and mouthed something like 'Don't even think about it.' "Did you see that?" Hazel asked. Percy's face was red in the sunset. "Yeah. I've been here before. I... I don't know. I think I was looking for my girlfriend." "Annabeth, " Frank said. "You mean, on your way to Camp Jupiter?" Percy frowned. "No. Before that.
They sped by a pack of sea lions lounging on the docks, and she swore she saw an old homeless guy sitting among them. From across the water the old man pointed a bony finger at Percy and mouthed something like 'Don't even think about it.' "Did you see that?" Hazel asked. Percy's face was red in the sunset. "Yeah. I've been here before. I...I don't know. I think I was looking for my girlfriend." "Annabeth," Frank said. "You mean, on your way to Camp Jupiter?" Percy frowned. "No. Before that.
The swing of his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy; and as I knew well, he was never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music of St. James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set himself to hunt down.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Magnus remembered a town in Peru whose Quechua name meant 'quiet place.' He recalled even more vividly being obscenely drunk and unhappy over his heartbreak of that time, and the maudlin thoughts that had recurred to him over the years, like an unwanted guest slipping in through his doors: that there was no peace for such as he, no quiet place, and there never would be. Except he found himself remembering lying in bed with Alec-all of their clothes on, lounging on the bed on a lazy afternoon, Alec laughing, head thrown back, the marks Magnus had left on his throat very plain to see.
Sarah Rees Brennan
SO IT'S ANOTHER SUNDAY SO PEACEFUL AND TRANQUIL AS IF THE WORLD ITSELF IS AT A STAND STILL I GRAB MY PAD AND PEN BECAUSE I GOT TO WRITE SOME MORE BUT MY HEAD IS BANGING LIKE THE MUSIC FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE I LET THE TRACK PLAY AND AFTER 30 MINUTES I HAD MY RAPS STRAIGHT, THE HOOK AND VERSE WERE FINISHED THEN I RECITED THEM TO MAKE SURE THE FLOW WAS TIGHT IT'S LIKE I HAD THEM RHYMES STORED IN MY BRAIN OVERNIGHT I'M FEELING KINDA LAZY I'M BACK AT WORK TOMORROW BUT NO IT DOESN'T PHASE ME I'M LOUNGING IN MY BOXERS AND LISTENING TO GOSPEL WITH THE SMELL OF MY BREAKFAST TICKLING MY NOSTRILS I GOT THE ACKEE AND THE SALT FISH AND NO I NEVER HAVE A SMALL DISH THAT'S HOW I GOT A SPRING IN MY STEPS AND NOW MY APPETITE IS SATISFIED AND EVERYTHING IS BLESS
Kuroisoul & Kinetik
Well, ' said a very amused voice. 'This is unexpected.' Tessa sat bolt upright, pulling the heavy coverlet around her. Beside her, Will stirred, propping himself up on his elbows, eyelids fluttering open slowly. 'What-' The room was filled with bright light. The torches had come on at full strength, and it was like the place was lit with daylight. Tessa could see the wreck of the room that they had made: their clothes scattered across the floor and the bed, the rug before the fireplace rucked up, the bedclothes wound about them. On the other side of the invisible wall was lounging a familiar figure in an elegant dark suit, one thumb hooked into the waistband of his trousers. His cat-pupilled eyes glimmered with mirth. Magnus Bane. 'You might want to get up, ' he said. 'Everyone will be here quite soon to rescue you, and you may prefer to have clothes on when they arrive.' He shrugged. 'I would, at any rate, but then, I am well known to be remarkably shy.
Love is an emotion that creeps up at you like darkness; you become wary watching love come at you like a scary movie with billows of black smoke, puffy like racing towards a doomed target. Love can also be like lounging on the beach, listening to the waves, slapping the seashore, the calm and serenity of a tropical vacation. Love is art's greatest muse. We spend our entire lives trying to chase love, this elusive emotion, sometimes our pursuit is like hurling coins into a well and jumping in after, tumbling unknowingly into an abyss. Love is ideally the greatest affection; the crowning of all ambitions, love consumes us at the birth of a child and crushes us when our loved one dies. Love channels us into the lives and minds of others like tributaries, rivers converging into a great ocean. Love embraces us in both death and Life. a Freelancer said he was deeply disappointed with this quote
When Batty got back home from walking the dogs, there were teenagers lounging all over the place, some left over from the basketball game, some arriving for the birthday dinner, some who fit into both categories. For once, she hardly cared, too delighted to see that Oliver's sleek car was no longer in the driveway. Hoping that he was gone forever, she rushed into the house and ended up in the kitchen, where dinner preparations were in full swing. Mr. Penderwick was chopping up vegetables for quesadillas, Rosalind was pulling a cake out of the oven, Jeffrey was shredding cheese, and Iantha was cooking up small, plain cheese quesadillas for Lydia, who was to be fed before the big dinner got rolling. Then there were the non-workers: Lydia in her high chair, wearing both her crown and her lamb bib, her new pink rabbit beside her; Jane sitting cross-legged on the floor, in everyone's way; Ben, strutting around, showing off his new Celtics T-shirt; and Asimov, sticking close to Jeffrey, hoping for falling cheese.
There was just enough room for the tonga to get through among the bullock-carts, rickshaws, cycles and pedestrians who thronged both the road and the pavement-which they shared with barbers plying their trade out of doors, fortune-tellers, flimsy tea-stalls, vegetable-stands, monkey-trainers, ear-cleaners, pickpockets, stray cattle, the odd sleepy policeman sauntering along in faded khaki, sweat-soaked men carrying impossible loads of copper, steel rods, glass or scrap paper on their backs as they yelled 'Look out! Look out!' in voices that somehow pierced though the din, shops of brassware and cloth (the owners attempting with shouts and gestures to entice uncertain shoppers in), the small carved stone entrance of the Tinny Tots (English Medium) School which opened out onto the courtyard of the reconverted haveli of a bankrupt aristocrat, and beggars-young and old, aggressive and meek, leprous, maimed or blinded-who would quietly invade Nabiganj as evening fell, attempting to avoid the police as they worked the queues in front of the cinema-halls. Crows cawed, small boys in rags rushed around on errands (one balancing six small dirty glasses of tea on a cheap tin tray as he weaved through the crowd) monkeys chattered in and bounded about a great shivering-leafed pipal tree and tried to raid unwary customers as they left the well-guarded fruit-stand, women shuffled along in anonymous burqas or bright saris, with or without their menfolk, a few students from the university lounging around a chaat-stand shouted at each other from a foot away either out of habit or in order to be heard, mangy dogs snapped and were kicked, skeletal cats mewed and were stoned, and flies settled everywhere: on heaps of foetid, rotting rubbish, on the uncovered sweets at the sweetseller's in whose huge curved pans of ghee sizzled delicioius jalebis, on the faces of the sari-clad but not the burqa-clad women, and on the horse's nostrils as he shook his blinkered head and tried to forge his way through Old Brahmpur in the direction of the Barsaat Mahal.