He Sounded Like A Man Who Had

The Overall Picture, As The Boys Say, Is Of A Degraded Community Whose Idealism Even Is Largely Fake. The Pretentiousness, The Bogus Enthusiasm, The Constant Drinking, The Incessant Squabbling Over Money, The All-pervasive Agent, The Strutting Of The Big Shots (and Their Usually Utter Incompetence To Achieve Anything They Start Out To Do), The Constant Fear Of Losing All This Fairy Gold And Being The Nothing They Have Never Ceased To Be, The Snide Tricks, The Whole Damn Mess Is Out Of This World.

If People Could Deal With Each Other Honestly, They Would Not Need Agents.

There Is No Bad Whiskey. There Are Only Some Whiskeys That Aren't As Good As Others.

I Hung Up. It Was A Good Start, But It Didn’t Go Far Enough. I Ought To Have Locked The Door And Hidden Under The Desk.

I Sat Down On The Edge Of A Deep Soft Chair And Looked At Mrs Regan. She Was Worth A Stare. She Was Trouble.