He sounded like a man who had slept well and didn't owe too much money.

She was kind of girl who'd eat all your cashews and leave you with nothing but peanuts and filberts.

It was a smooth silvery voice that matched her hair. It had a tiny tinkle in it, like bells in a doll's house. I thought that was silly as soon as I thought of it.

He looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.

The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men.

Throw up into your typewriter every morning. Clean up every noon.

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