“I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door. "No," she said irritably. "And a purple shirt.”

“She was wearing a purple T-shirt, with a skinny black dress over it that made you remember how much of a girl she was, and trashed black boots that made you forget.”

“Could he possibly believe a purple tunic over a butler- yellow shirt and scarlet pants became him.”

“Wait, I want more green. I hope I did not imply I only wanted your colors. We can't turn a cold shoulder to green, and blue, and purple, for the sake of all ordered things, how can you dismiss purple? Celi, call Nom back and tell him of my need for purple!”

“Do you own anything not pink?" "I have a purple razor if you'd rather." "Please." She pulled out a darker pink one. "That's not purple," Talon said. "It's pink too.”

“I hate that name,” Mr. Grey said, walking toward the dragon’s head statue. It was taller than he was, formed eerily from the stalactites and stalagmites of the cavern wall. “I wanted to be Mr. Purple. I like purple.”