1 I didn't dare show my face at Court for a month.
2 Her teeth showed like white seeds in a scarlet fruit.
3 She showed no sign of joy when her eyes rested on Romeo.
4 I will show you the way, Mr. Hubbard, if you will kindly follow me.
5 The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.
6 He showed me a letter that his wife had written to him when she was dying alone in her villa at Mentone.
7 Yes," he continued, coming closer to him and looking steadfastly into his stern eyes, "I shall show you my soul.
8 You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages.
9 When he thought of her, it would be as a wonderful tragic figure sent on to the world's stage to show the supreme reality of love.
10 If a wretched man has a vice, it shows itself in the lines of his mouth, the droop of his eyelids, the moulding of his hands even.
11 It seemed to him that in exquisite raiment, and to the delicate sound of flutes, the sins of the world were passing in dumb show before him.
12 Perhaps, some day, the cruel look would have passed away from the scarlet sensitive mouth, and he might show to the world Basil Hallward's masterpiece.
13 The quivering ardent sunlight showed him the lines of cruelty round the mouth as clearly as if he had been looking into a mirror after he had done some dreadful thing.
14 Yes: that blind, slow-breathing thing crawled no more, and horrible thoughts, time being dead, raced nimbly on in front, and dragged a hideous future from its grave, and showed it to him.
15 Moralists had, as a rule, regarded it as a mode of warning, had claimed for it a certain ethical efficacy in the formation of character, had praised it as something that taught us what to follow and showed us what to avoid.
16 Dim and wavering as was the wind-blown light, yet it served to show him the hideous error, as it seemed, into which he had fallen, for the face of the man he had sought to kill had all the bloom of boyhood, all the unstained purity of youth.
17 Upon the walls of the lonely locked room where he had spent so much of his boyhood, he had hung with his own hands the terrible portrait whose changing features showed him the real degradation of his life, and in front of it had draped the purple-and-gold pall as a curtain.
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