1 It was really the paint that appealed to me, the whiteness of it, like a mask, and the bright red lips.
2 Both of them were dressed in the blue shorts, grey shirts, and red neckerchiefs which were the uniform of the Spies.
3 His features had thickened, the skin on nose and cheekbones was coarsely red, even the bald scalp was too deep a pink.
4 There was a little pile of plaster lying on the pavement ahead of him, and in the middle of it he could see a bright red streak.
5 From the table drawer he took out a penholder, a bottle of ink, and a thick, quarto-sized blank book with a red back and a marbled cover.
6 Here and there under the dirt there were the red scars of wounds, and near the ankle the varicose ulcer was an inflamed mass with flakes of skin peeling off it.
7 The words COMMUNIST INTERNATIONAL, for instance, call up a composite picture of universal human brotherhood, red flags, barricades, Karl Marx, and the Paris Commune.
Nineteen Eighty-Four By George OrwellContextHighlight In PART 3: Chapter 7-APPENDIX 8 His whole appearance was that of a little boy grown large, so much so that although he was wearing the regulation overalls, it was almost impossible not to think of him as being dressed in the blue shorts, grey shirt, and red neckerchief of the Spies.
9 The June sun was still high in the sky, and in the sun-filled court below, a monstrous woman, solid as a Norman pillar, with brawny red forearms and a sacking apron strapped about her middle, was stumping to and fro between a washtub and a clothes line, pegging out a series of square white things which Winston recognized as babies' diapers.
10 She had had her momentary flowering, a year, perhaps, of wild-rose beauty and then she had suddenly swollen like a fertilized fruit and grown hard and red and coarse, and then her life had been laundering, scrubbing, darning, cooking, sweeping, polishing, mending, scrubbing, laundering, first for children, then for grandchildren, over thirty unbroken years.