I've heard it said that God made all men, but Samuel Colt made all men equal. We'd see what Mr. Colt could do for a woman.

I hate meeting new people even new clients who intend to give me money. I try to be pleasant but I'm not very good at it. The best I can usually pull off is 'professional if somewhat chilly.' It's not ideal no. But it beats 'awkward and bitchy.

She was thirty-five, and she did not look a minute younger.

And people tended not to bother a woman with a book.

I hate to make the comparison here, but think of me as one of those expensive boutiques. If you have to ask about the cost, you probably can’t afford me.

Oh, it doesn't work at all. That's the problem! It's an endless, halting parade of inspections, bribes, and nonsense-but if you're aboard a Texas vessel, you'll find less inconvenience along the way." "It's because of their guns!" declared Mr. Henderson, once more escaping his reverie, bobbing out of it as if to gasp for air. "Concise, my love." Mrs. Henderson gave him a smile. "And correct. Texans are heavily armed and often impatient. They don't need to be transporting arms and gunpowder to create a great nuisance for anyone who stops them, so they tend to be stopped...less often.

I gave three quiet cheers for Minnesota. In Seattle a dusty inch of anything white and chilly means the city lapses into full-on panic mode, as if each falling flake crashes to earth with its own individual baggie of used hypodermic needles. It’s ridiculous.