Crossword-Solution: LUGGING
Dictionary
| Word | Word Type | Definition |
|---|---|---|
| Lugging | p. pr. & vb. n. | of Lug |
We have 2 clues for the answer “LUGGING”
| Clue | Answers |
|---|---|
| Pulling along | 2 answers |
| Schlepping | 2 answers |
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Dermatological complaint
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Hint 1 meaning
An inflammatory disease of the skin, characterized by the
presence of redness and itching, an eruption of small vesicles, and the
discharge of a watery exudation, which often dries up, leaving the skin
covered with crusts; -- called also tetter, milk crust, and salt rheum.
Hint 2 anagram
ZEMCEA
Hint 3 another clue
eruption
13 +2
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Sentences with LUGGING (5)
That’s because they found out by and by who it was that was doing the lugging, and _they_ know best why they swore here that they took it for Uncle Silas by the gait—which it _wasn’t_, and they knowed it when they swore to that lie.
She told me she couldn’t remember a time when she was so little that she wasn’t lugging a heavy baby about, helping to wash for babies, trying to keep their little chapped hands and faces clean.
And for any sake look at that elopement! He goes ahead carrying a cane, she comes behind lugging the baggage, another man with a cane brings up the rear.
Last of all, there goes the tithing-man, lugging in a couple of small boys, whom he has caught at play beneath God’s blessed sunshine, in a back lane.
Five such installments came, with their absurd air of disorderly flight with the loot of innumerable outfit shops and provision stores, that, one would think, they were lugging, after a raid, into the wilderness for equitable division.
Quotes with LUGGING (3)
Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,' Holly advised him. 'That was Doc's mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up…
Live or die, but don't poison everything... Well, death's been herefor a long time --it has a hell of a lotto do with helland suspicion of the eyeand the religious objectsand how I mourned themwhen they were made obsceneby my dwarf-heart's doodle. The chief ingredientis mutilation. And mud, day after day, mud like a ritual, and the baby on the platter, cooked but still human, cooked also with little maggots, sewn onto it maybe by somebody's mother, the damn bitch! Even so, I …
Soon enough it will be me struggling (valiantly?) to walk - lugging my stuff around. How are we all so brave as to take step after step? Day after day? How are we so optimistic, so careful not to trip and yet do trip, and then get up and say O.K. Why do I feel so sorry for everyone and so proud?