"Hulking" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... pathetic that Jevons should have wanted Mrs. Thesiger to love him—that he should have wanted Reggie to. But I must say his pathos was avenged. They were pathetic now. That big, hulking Major wasn't happy unless he was writing Jimmy's letters, or cutting up Jimmy's meat for him, or helping him in and out of his clothes. Mrs. Thesiger wasn't happy unless she was doing things for him. The Canon wasn't happy (though, like Norah, he had nothing on his conscience) and Mildred and ...
— The Belfry • May Sinclair
... majority of the peasants do not read and were therefore ignorant of my undertaking. They are somewhat superstitious and my first adventure was with two of them. It was some hours after I left Toledo that I spied these men. They were great, hulking fellows, engaged in rolling a large stump up the steep hill, rising from the bank of the river. Slipping quietly along the surface, I got close behind them without their seeing me. When I hailed them, they gave me one startled look, released their hold ...
— The Story of Paul Boyton - Voyages on All the Great Rivers of the World • Paul Boyton
... darkness was profound, and the moon was only a thin crescent just beginning its monthly life. Frycollin kept a lookout to the left and right of him to see if he was followed. And he fancied he could see five or six hulking follows dogging his footsteps. Instinctively he drew nearer to his master, but not for the world would he have dared to break in on the conversation of ...
— Rubur the Conqueror • Jules Verne
... not to miss you. I missed you last night after you had gone home, for instance. "But you, a great, hulking fellow! No, ...
— Wired Love - A Romance of Dots and Dashes • Ella Cheever Thayer
... boiler-iron stove, which has ruddy cheeks and is distributing a grateful warmth; the billiard-balls are clacking; there is no other sound—that is, within; the wind is fitfully moaning without. The men look bored; also expectant. A hulking broad-shouldered miner, of middle age, with grizzled whiskers, and an unfriendly eye set in an unsociable face, rises, slips a coil of fuse upon his arm, gathers up some other personal properties, and departs without word or greeting to anybody. It is Flint Buckner. As the door closes ...
— A Double Barrelled Detective Story • Mark Twain
|
