What I Try To Do Is Write

I Haven't Laughed So Much Over Anything Since The Hogs Ate My Kid Brother.

You're Drunk, And I'm Drunk, And I'm Just Exactly Drunk Enough To Tell You Anything You Want To Know. That's The Kind Of Girl I Am. If I Like A Person, I'll Tell Them Anything They Want To Know. Just Ask Me. Go Ahead, Ask Me.

Samuel Spade's Jaw Was Long And Bony, His Chin A Jutting V Under The More Flexible V Of His Mouth. His Nostrils Curved Back To Make Another, Smaller, V. His Yellow-grey Eyes Were Horizontal. The V Motif Was Picked Up Again By Thickish Brows Rising Outward From Twin Creases Above A Hooked Nose, And His Pale Brown Hair Grew Down--from High Flat Temples--in A Point On His Forehead. He Looked Rather Pleasantly Like A Blond Satan.

He Looked Rather Pleasantly, Like A Blonde Satan.

What I Try To Do Is Write A Story About A Detective Rather Than A Detective Story. Keeping The Reader Fooled Until The Last, Possible Moment Is A Good Trick And I Usually Try To Play It, But I Can't Attach More Than Secondary Importance To It. The Puzzle Isn't So Interesting To Me As The Behavior Of The Detective Attacking It.