Red lips are not so red As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Sir, there is more knowledge in a letter of Richardson's, than in all Tom Jones.
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my s
Redrum! Redrum! Redrum!
I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Fame now wears the halo that once crowned holiness.
All nature wears one universal grin.