1 The purple spilled from the cup she was holding.
2 Beneath its purple pall, the face painted on the canvas could grow bestial, sodden, and unclean.
3 He went in quietly, locking the door behind him, as was his custom, and dragged the purple hanging from the portrait.
4 In a month there will be purple stars on the clematis, and year after year the green night of its leaves will hold its purple stars.
5 His eye fell on a large, purple satin coverlet heavily embroidered with gold, a splendid piece of late seventeenth-century Venetian work that his grandfather had found in a convent near Bologna.
6 Her white feet trod the huge press at which wise Omar sits, till the seething grape-juice rose round her bare limbs in waves of purple bubbles, or crawled in red foam over the vat's black, dripping, sloping sides.
7 Outside, there is the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it feared to wake the sleepers and yet must needs call forth sleep from her purple cave.
8 In the long cedar chests that lined the west gallery of his house, he had stored away many rare and beautiful specimens of what is really the raiment of the Bride of Christ, who must wear purple and jewels and fine linen that she may hide the pallid macerated body that is worn by the suffering that she seeks for and wounded by self-inflicted pain.