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They smelled as overpowering as boiling alcohol under a blanket.
How did he ever come up with this one?
the ankles long and slim and with enough melodic line for a tone poem.
There was no fear in the scream. It had a sound of half-pleasurable shock, an accent of drunkenness, an overtone of pure idiocy.
Probably all her boy friends got around to slapping her sooner or later.
And Philip Marlowe slapped her too. Glad this is no longer considered normal.
Top-flight racketeers have business brains. They learn to do things that are good policy and let their personal feelings take care of themselves.
He had tight brilliant eyes that wanted to look hard, and looked as hard as oysters on the half shell.
I don't under this simile.
looked me over without haste, without interest, as if he was looking at a slab of cold meat. Perhaps he thought of people that way.
