She pulled out a handkerchief and mopped her brow.

My car is not brown.

Most of us have, to some extent, experienced being caught in a cycle like this one: Facing the browser, you hit, like you always do, Ctrl-T to open a new tab, type in the first letter of the website you always visit, and hit "enter"... just to see if anything new has happened.

Tom pulled out a sandwich from a brown paper bag.

Tom baked some brownies yesterday.

Chloe placed the chaplet she had made upon his brow and kissed his hair, which to her mind had a sweeter perfume even than the violets.

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace.

Am I not dearer to you than any of them?" the little mermaid's eyes seemed to say when he took her in his arms and kissed her beautiful brow.

Whichever Brown do you mean?

Tom furrowed his brow.