1 You used to stir my imagination.
2 Ordinary women never appeal to one's imagination.
3 It was the imagination that set remorse to dog the feet of sin.
4 He saw them at night, and they troubled his imagination in the day.
5 It was the imagination that made each crime bear its misshapen brood.
6 Browning writes about that somewhere; but our own senses will imagine them for us.
7 Actual life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the imagination.
8 In the mystic offices to which such things were put, there was something that quickened his imagination.
9 What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination.
10 You are mad, I tell you--mad to imagine that I would raise a finger to help you, mad to make this monstrous confession.
11 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.
12 The brain had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, made grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving masks.
13 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.
14 What there was in it of the purely sensuous instinct of boyhood had been transformed by the workings of the imagination, changed into something that seemed to the lad himself to be remote from sense, and was for that very reason all the more dangerous.
15 There were times when it appeared to Dorian Gray that the whole of history was merely the record of his own life, not as he had lived it in act and circumstance, but as his imagination had created it for him, as it had been in his brain and in his passions.
16 It was true that as one watched life in its curious crucible of pain and pleasure, one could not wear over one's face a mask of glass, nor keep the sulphurous fumes from troubling the brain and making the imagination turbid with monstrous fancies and misshapen dreams.
17 Well, after a few days the thing left my studio, and as soon as I had got rid of the intolerable fascination of its presence, it seemed to me that I had been foolish in imagining that I had seen anything in it, more than that you were extremely good-looking and that I could paint.
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