from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike License
- v. to curl, make curly, shape into curls
- v. to become curly
- v. to coil or shrivel, make into a coil
- v. to become coiled or shriveled
- v. to shape one's body into a somewhat ball-like shape, with one's legs tucked into the abdomen, especially for cosiness or for protection.
from WordNet 3.0 Copyright 2006 by Princeton University. All rights reserved.
- v. shape one's body into a curl
Sorry, no etymologies found.
It was a wonderfully quaint and rambling building with English ivy climbing its quarry-cut stone walls, and cozy nooks and crannies inside, along with long, shining walnut tables and wingback chairs in which to curl up and read Anne of Green Gables or Little Women.
I was a mother for the first time, and Pooky had fulfilled all my seven-year-old hopes and dreams from the moment he shuffled through the woodchips to curl up in my hand.
Wiring a plug, or starting a rented car, or understanding a new mobile phone, add years to me, bring out frustration and an almost frantic urge to get away and curl up on my own.
Danny watched Rape-o curl up in the dirt and go to sleep, sated, his muscles slack.
Is it not astonishing that insects, possessing even in combination such trivial muscular power as the green tree-ant, should be able to cause leaves 12 inches long by 8 inches wide to curl up so that the apex shall almost touch the base, or that the parallel borders shall be brought together with the nicest apposition?
The teacher had to call in a slouching, slack-mouthed boy from the audiovisual department; this made Wendy and several other girls squeal that they wanted to curl up and die.
My very wristbands curl up in a dog's-eared and disconsolate manner; my little room is all a heap of disorder.
At rest her fingers tended to curl up like a claw, or like the petals of a flower gone a bit blowsy: her hand was always out, always open, ready to take what found its way there and seize it.
The Quarter was about to curl up and take a catnap—except for Bourbon Street, party jamboree and flesh-fest central, twenty-four/seven, and as wide awake as a lap-dancing tweaker go-juiced to the eyebrows.
She talked about polymorphous perversity, and how the whole world was just like a litter of puppies who want to curl up together and lick each other and smell each other, and about exogamy and endogamy and the absurdity and destructiveness of notions like racial purity, and about the ways property, the whole idea of property, had infected and corrupted sexual relationships.