1 I think I must go and lie down.
2 On the floor in front of it the torn curtain was lying.
3 Some of the drivers were lying asleep on a pile of sacks.
4 They ultimately found her lying dead on the floor of her dressing-room.
5 Lord Henry was lying back in a silk-draped wicker chair, looking at them.
6 It was after five o'clock, and Sibyl had to lie down for a couple of hours before acting.
7 When he arrived home, about half-past twelve o'clock, he saw a telegram lying on the hall table.
8 Dorian was sleeping quite peacefully, lying on his right side, with one hand underneath his cheek.
9 Upstairs, in his own room, Dorian Gray was lying on a sofa, with terror in every tingling fibre of his body.
10 And, yet, a feeling of infinite regret came over him, as he thought of her lying at his feet sobbing like a little child.
11 At last he got up from the sofa on which he had been lying, went over to it, and having unlocked it, touched some hidden spring.
12 I was furious with him, and told him that Juliet had been dead for hundreds of years and that her body was lying in a marble tomb in Verona.
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 If in some hideous dissecting-room or fetid laboratory you found this man lying on a leaden table with red gutters scooped out in it for the blood to flow through, you would simply look upon him as an admirable subject.
15 The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the letter that we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often.
16 On a little table of dark perfumed wood thickly incrusted with nacre, a present from Lady Radley, his guardian's wife, a pretty professional invalid who had spent the preceding winter in Cairo, was lying a note from Lord Henry, and beside it was a book bound in yellow paper, the cover slightly torn and the edges soiled.
17 There were moments, indeed, at night, when, lying sleepless in his own delicately scented chamber, or in the sordid room of the little ill-famed tavern near the docks which, under an assumed name and in disguise, it was his habit to frequent, he would think of the ruin he had brought upon his soul with a pity that was all the more poignant because it was purely selfish.
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