1 Form and colour tell us of form and colour--that is all.
2 One should sympathize with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life.
3 The colour came back to his cheeks, and a smile played about his lips.
4 There were in it metaphors as monstrous as orchids and as subtle in colour.
5 The garnet cast out demons, and the hydropicus deprived the moon of her colour.
6 A sigh of relief broke from his parched lips, and the colour came back to his cheeks.
7 I find that, ultimately, there are only two kinds of women, the plain and the coloured.
8 But I know that as I worked at it, every flake and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret.
9 When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, and he started up.
10 It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself.
11 The carnations of the painting had withered, but the eyes were still wonderful in their depth and brilliancy of colour.
12 Some day you will look at your friend, and he will seem to you to be a little out of drawing, or you won't like his tone of colour, or something.
13 He procured from Amsterdam three emeralds of extraordinary size and richness of colour, and had a turquoise de la vieille roche that was the envy of all the connoisseurs.
14 Indeed, the probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by either his wants, his desires, or his prejudices.
15 The sudden flashes of colour reminded him of the gleam of the opal-and-iris-throated birds that flutter round the tall honeycombed Campanile, or stalk, with such stately grace, through the dim, dust-stained arcades.
16 He felt that the eyes of Dorian Gray were fixed on him, and the consciousness that amongst his audience there was one whose temperament he wished to fascinate seemed to give his wit keenness and to lend colour to his imagination.
17 But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play--I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.
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