1 Dorian Gray grew sick with fear.
2 "A great many, I fear," she cried.
3 Leaden with fear, his mother watched him.
4 I have not the slightest fear of the result.
5 "I fear you are right," answered Mr. Erskine.
6 "I fear so," she said, laughing, as she stood up.
7 "How fearful," he muttered, and a shudder ran through him.
8 No," said Dorian Gray, "there is nothing fearful about it.
9 The rotting of a corpse in a watery grave was not so fearful.
10 A strange sense of fear, for which he could not account, came over him.
11 There was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they are suddenly awakened.
12 I believe he is in love," cried Lady Narborough, "and that he is afraid to tell me for fear I should be jealous.
13 And with fear in his eyes, Lord Henry rushed through the flapping palms to find Dorian Gray lying face downwards on the tiled floor in a deathlike swoon.
14 Besides, he had convinced himself that he had been the victim of a terror-stricken imagination, and looked back now on his fears with something of pity and not a little of contempt.
15 There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or for what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature that every fibre of the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful impulses.
16 For these treasures, and everything that he collected in his lovely house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times to be almost too great to be borne.
17 His unreal and selfish love would yield to some higher influence, would be transformed into some nobler passion, and the portrait that Basil Hallward had painted of him would be a guide to him through life, would be to him what holiness is to some, and conscience to others, and the fear of God to us all.
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