And this, from a modern novel (A. S. Byatt's Angels and Insects) is just as surely a paragraph:
Edgar Alabaster was dancing with his sister Eugenia. He was a big, muscular man, his blond hair crimping in windswept regular waves over his long head, his back stiff and straight. But his large feet moved quickly and intricately, tracing elegant skipping patterns beside Eugenia's pearly-grey slippers. They were not speaking to each other. Edgar looked over Eugenia's shoulder, faintly bored, surveying the ballroom. Eugenia's eyes were half closed. They whirled, they floated, they checked, they pirouetted.