wrinkled造句

His face was wrinkled with age.

A hoary head with wrinkled skin

The peasant is palming his wrinkled face.

Tyler never ate in restaurants, and Marla wasn't wrinkled.

I wrinkled up my nose at the nasty smell.

His long dumpy face wrinkled in a scowl.

Infected maize crops have wrinkled leaves, no cobs at all and generally stunted growth.

A melancholy fold, which resembled the beginning of irony, wrinkled her right cheek.

Captain Yolles wrinkled his nose at the overpowering odor of garbage.

Some of the smart ones, hiding themselves behind him, wrinkled their noses in a grimace.

Other nasty effects: wrinkled and leathery skin, brown sunspots, and cataracts.

When we talk about ears, we usually mean the oddly wrinkled appendages on the sides of our heads.

Feel the soft cotton fabric on your hands, notice the areas that are wrinkled and pay attention to the silence.

Designers often wear worn-out jeans and wrinkled t-shirts, and frankly, most of the time, I say embrace it.

She was a small woman, old and wrinkled. When she started washing for us, she was already past seventy.

The wrinkled brow locked my helpless Acacia, let me how to forget, your tender eyes have my heart melt.

The speaker began to crumple up the $20 bill using both his hands until it became a piece of wrinkled paper.

Both the infant and the person with Alzheimer's must be fed, cleansed, they are highly emotional, sleep a lot, they have wrinkled skins.

They found that the cerebral cortex, the wrinkled area on the surface of the brain responsible for higher mental functions, grows in an uneven fashion.

There was a glow on his face, wrinkled by a life time of suffering, that inspired one with a feeling of unshakable optimism.

If you see a guy wearing a wrinkled suit and a tie with a big soup stain on it, you don't remember what shoes he wore.

Go, seek your minister, and see if his emaciated figure, his thin cheek, his white, heavy, pain-wrinkled brow, be not flung down there, like a cast-off garment!

And then she was there, the woman in the car. In the room with my son, her black hair, her hard laugh, the wrinkled skin under her hard eyes, the sudden blood filling the white of her blue eye.

She would oftentimes wear wrinkled baggy pajamas and bargain heatedly with hawkers in the market with such a loud voice that everyone could will her man think of her?

So is the surrounding tissue of her brain, a three-pound (1.4-kilogram), helmet-shaped bolus of fat and protein, wrinkled like a cleaning sponge and with a consistency of curdled milk.