Quotes from Raymond Chandler

Tsk, tsk," I said, not moving at all. "Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains. You're the second guy I've met within hours who seems to think a gat in the hand means a world by the tail. Put it down and don't be silly, Joe.

A white night for me is as rare as a fat postman. If it hadn't been for Mr. Howard Spencer at the Ritz-Beverly I would have killed a bottle and knocked myself out. And the next time I saw a polite character drunk in a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith, I would depart rapidly in several directions. There is no trap so deadly as the trap you set for yourself.

Dames lie about anything - just for practice.

I looked at her again. She lay still now, her face pale against the pillow, her eyes large and dark and empty as rain barrels in a drought. One of her small five-fingered thumbless hands picked at the cover restlessly. There was a vague glimmer of doubt starting to get born in her somewhere. She didn't know about it yet. It's so hard for women - even nice women - to realise that their bodies are not irresistible.

But this Hemingway stuff is what really has me down. A gag, I said. An old, old gag. Who is this Hemingway person at all? A guy that keeps saying the same thing over and over until you begin to believe it must be good. That must take a hell of a long time, the big man said.

She'd make a jazzy weekend, but she'd be wearing for a steady diet.

It's like this with us baby. We're coppers and everybody hates our guts....nothing we do is right, not ever. If we get a confession we beat it out of a guy, they say, and some shyster lawyer calls us Gestapo.

I was a swell guy. I enjoyed being me.

The thin man had a tight voice that expected to be lied to. (The King in Yellow)

Hollywood is wonderful. Anyone who doesn't like it is either crazy or sober.

Or can I call you Phil? Sure. You can can me Vivian. Thanks, Mrs. Regan. Oh, go to hell, Marlowe.

His clothes looked as if they had cost a great deal of money and had been slept in. (Guns at Cyrano's)

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid....He must be the best man in his world, and a good enough man for any world. from Raymond Chandler's, The Simple Act of Murder.

Well, all he did was kill a Negro," I said. "I guess that's only a misdemeanor.

No border town is anything but a border town, just as no waterfront is anything but a waterfront.

Go ahead and faint, I said. I'll catch you on the first bounce.

Racket beer, sonny," he said sadly. "Tasteless as a roadhouse blonde." (Spanish Blood)

She thought. It was nice to watch her thinking. She still had her legs crossed, and still carelessly.

You know who they are?" Tony said softly. "I could maybe give nine guesses. And twelve of them would be right." (I'll be waiting)

You like it in jail?' 'It's not too bad. You don't meet the best people, but who the hell wants to?

We live in what is called a democracy, rule by the majority of the people. A fine ideal if it could be made to work. The people elect, but the party machines nominate, and the party machines to be effective must spend a great deal of money. Somebody has to give it to them, and that somebody, whether it be an individual, a financial group, a trade union or what have you, expects some consideration in return.

What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that.

He was a windblown blossom of some two hundred pounds with freckled teeth and the mellow voice of a circus barker. He was tough, fast and he ate red meat. Nobody could push him around. He was the kind of cop who spits on his blackjack every night instead of saying his prayers. But he had humorous eyes.

Una tipa que sonaba a borracha perdida cantaba ''Frankie and Johnny'' en versión marinera, con una voz que ni el whisky había logrado mejorar.