I'm in a wild mood tonight. I want to go dance in the foam. I hear the banshees calling.

Its big men are mostly little men with fancy offices and a lot of money. A great many of them are stupid little men, with reach-me-down brains, small-town arrogance and a sort of animal knack of smelling out the taste of the stupidest part of the public. They have played in luck so long that they have come to mistake luck for enlightenment." - on Hollywood

The coffee shop smell was strong enough to build a garage on.

James Cain - faugh! Everything he touches smells like a billygoat. He is every kind of writer I detest, a faux naix, a Proust in greasy overalls, a dirty little boy with a piece of chalk and a board fence and nobody looking. Such people are the offal of literature, not because they write about dirty things, but because they do it in a dirty way.

I'm in a wild mood tonight. I want to go dance in the foam. I hear the banshees calling.

The test of a writer is whether you want to read him again years after he should by the rules be dated.

However toplofty and idealistic a man may be, he can always rationalize his right to earn money.