She jerked away from me like a startled fawn might, if I had a startled fawn and it jerked away from me.

And the commercials would have sickened a goat raised on barbed wire and broken beer bottles.

She was the music heard faintly on the edge of sound.

Until you guys own your own souls you don't own mine. Until you guys can be trusted every time and always, in all times and conditions, to seek the truth out and find it and let the chips fall where they may—until that time comes, I have the right to listen to my conscience, and protect my client the best way I can. Until I'm sure you won't do him more harm than you'll do the truth good. Or until I'm hauled before somebody that can make me talk.

A check girl in peach-bloom Chinese pajamas came over to take my hat and disapprove of my clothes. She had eyes like strange sins.

Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form inself on the edge of consciousness.

The girl gave him a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of his back.