1 Hallward started and then frowned.
2 But then in the Church they don't think.
3 Months of voiceless agony, and then a child born in pain.
4 The flower seemed to quiver, and then swayed gently to and fro.
5 I shall be of age in less than a year, and then I can do what I like.
6 Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret.
7 Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain.
8 But then the only things that one can use in fiction are the things that one has ceased to use in fact.
9 Her eyes caught the melody and echoed it in radiance, then closed for a moment, as though to hide their secret.
10 "In that case, let our friendship be a caprice," he murmured, flushing at his own boldness, then stepped up on the platform and resumed his pose.
11 I hope that Dorian Gray will make this girl his wife, passionately adore her for six months, and then suddenly become fascinated by some one else.
12 He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henry's last remark, he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day."
13 The sweep and dash of the brush on the canvas made the only sound that broke the stillness, except when, now and then, Hallward stepped back to look at his work from a distance.
14 After about a quarter of an hour Hallward stopped painting, looked for a long time at Dorian Gray, and then for a long time at the picture, biting the end of one of his huge brushes and frowning.
15 But now and then a complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting.
16 When your youth goes, your beauty will go with it, and then you will suddenly discover that there are no triumphs left for you, or have to content yourself with those mean triumphs that the memory of your past will make more bitter than defeats.
17 He had uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain young, and the portrait grow old; that his own beauty might be untarnished, and the face on the canvas bear the burden of his passions and his sins; that the painted image might be seared with the lines of suffering and thought, and that he might keep all the delicate bloom and loveliness of his then just conscious boyhood.
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