A Quote by Raymond Chandler
The girl gave him a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of his back.
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...called nine-one-one," Howie was saying, "and then I heard something in the alleyway, so I went back there and" --Howie coughed-- "and valiantly attacked his knife with my guts, to no avail." "Did you get a good look at him? Could you describe him?" Howie smiled wanly. "Yeah. He was about yay long" --he held up his hands, four inches apart-- "thin, made of steel. Pointy. Sharp.
When someone sticks a knife six inches into your back, and then pulls it out two inches and claims he's doing you a favor, don't believe him.
I learned the hard way. When I started hitting home runs, I thought, I can hit these pitches. Then I started thinking, if I can do this, I can hit the pitch four inches outside or four inches up. I expanded the zone and got myself out. Pitchers are smart. If they find out they don't have to throw strikes, they won't.
After I played him for the first time, I said 'Let's see. He's four or five inches taller. He's 40 or 50 pounds heavier. His vertical leap is at least as good as mine. He can get up and down the floor as well as I can. And he's smart. The real problem with all this is I have to show up.
This guy, when I met him he was 47 years old, he'd just come out of a divorce and he was, you know, very desirable. He had every Cosmo cover girl and undercover girl. They were just coming out of his ears. Baking cakes on his doorstep, one in the back door, one on the roof, one waiting in the basement, another in the elevator. So I know I have to keep an eye on him.
I can't turn around without hearing about some 'civil rights advance's White people seem to think the black man ought to be shouting 'hallelujah's Four hundred years the white man has had his foot-long knife in the black man's back — and now the white man starts to wiggle the knife out, maybe six inches! The black man's supposed to be grateful? Why, if the white man jerked the knife out, it's still going to leave a scar!
My father, a mining engineer and colliery manager, gave his brood many advantages not least of which, for me, was his love of singing which gave music a central place in our lives.
In life,there are only four kinds of girls: The girl who played with fire. The girl who opened Pandora's Box. The girl who gave Adam the apple. And the girl whose best friend stole her boyfriend.
If you stick a knife nine inches into my back and pull it out three inches, that is not progress.
I think for my parents it was like "A Boy Named Sue," the Johnny Cash song. A guy named Sue tries to track down his father to take it out on his father for naming him Sue. And his father says, "Look, I knew I wasn't going to be around. So I gave you the name so that you would grow up strong enough to take the hits and fight back." So I like to believe that's why my parents gave me this stupid name.
That's my girl," he murmured. "I'm not your girl." "Well," he said not bothering to hide his smile from her sightless eyes, "the good news is that the honey gave you back your sparkling personality." "And the bad news?" "The honey gave you back your sparkling personality.
Every wife ought to answer for her man. If the husband be engaged in a seditious club, or drinks mysterious healths, or be frugal of his candles on a rejoicing night, let her look to him and keep him out of harm's way; or the world will be apt to say, she has a mind to be a widow before her time. She ought, in such cases, to exert the authority of the curtain lecture; and if she finds him of a rebellious disposition, to tame him, as they do birds of prey, by dinning him in the ears all night long.
The Christian ought not to say anything behind his brother's back with the object of calumniating him, for this is slander, even if what is said is true. He ought to turn away from the brother who speaks evil against him?
And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out and drank his blood! But, till then - if you don't believe me, you don't know me - til then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair on his head!
You don't stick a knife in a man's back nine inches and then pull it out six inches and say you're making progress.
Once in his life, a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth, I believe. He ought to give himself up to a particular landscape in his experience, to look at it from as many angles as he can, to wonder about it, to dwell upon it. He ought to imagine that he touches it with his hands at every season and listens to the sounds that are made upon it. He ought to imagine the creatures there and all the faintest motions of the wind. He ought to recollect the glare of noon and all the colors of the dawn and dusk.
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