To Say Goodbye Is To Die A

She Bent Over Me Again. Blood Began To Move Around In Me, Like A Prospective Tenant Looking Over A House.

She Was Kind Of Girl Who'd Eat All Your Cashews And Leave You With Nothing But Peanuts And Filberts.

Undoubtedly The Stories About Them [hard-boiled Detectives] Had A Fantastic Element. Such Things Happened, But Not So Rapidly, Nor To So Close-knit A Group Of People, Nor Within So Narrow A Frame Of Logic. This Was Inevitable Because The Demand Was For Constant Action; If You Stopped To Think You Were Lost. When In Doubt, Have A Man Come Through A Door With A Gun In His Hand.

I Like Smooth Shiny Girls, Hardboiled And Loaded With Sin.

The Moment A Man Begins To Talk About Technique That's Proof That He Is Fresh Out Of Ideas.