1 There was something in the shape of his fingers that I hated.
2 In black fantastic shapes, dumb shadows crawl into the corners of the room and crouch there.
3 Those finely shaped fingers could never have clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God and goodness.
4 But perhaps it had been only his fancy that had called vengeance out of the night and set the hideous shapes of punishment before him.
5 At last, liveried in the costume of the age, reality entered the room in the shape of a servant to tell the duchess that her carriage was waiting.
6 I loved you because you were marvellous, because you had genius and intellect, because you realized the dreams of great poets and gave shape and substance to the shadows of art.
7 The fantastic character of these instruments fascinated him, and he felt a curious delight in the thought that art, like Nature, has her monsters, things of bestial shape and with hideous voices.
8 After about ten minutes a knock came to the door, and the servant entered, carrying a large mahogany chest of chemicals, with a long coil of steel and platinum wire and two rather curiously shaped iron clamps.
9 The coarse brawl, the loathsome den, the crude violence of disordered life, the very vileness of thief and outcast, were more vivid, in their intense actuality of impression, than all the gracious shapes of art, the dreamy shadows of song.
10 Certainly with hideous iteration the bitten lips of Dorian Gray shaped and reshaped those subtle words that dealt with soul and sense, till he had found in them the full expression, as it were, of his mood, and justified, by intellectual approval, passions that without such justification would still have dominated his temper.