It was some time since I had gone to sleep in the same room with a girl. Of course, the room was large and reasonably well-lighted, and the girl had other things than me on her mind.

Ross Macdonald

Tags: sex relationships



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Chandler wrote like a slumming angel and invested the sun-blinded streets of Los Angeles with a romantic presence.

Ross Macdonald


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No one looks at the mountains. But they were there, making them all look silly.

Ross Macdonald

Tags: perspective



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The walls of books around him, dense with the past, formed a kind of insulation against the present world and its disasters.

Ross Macdonald

Tags: words reading books literature introversion



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On both sides of the highway I could see the rows of little frame houses, all alike, as if there were only one architect in the city and he had a magnificent obsession.

Ross Macdonald

Tags: architecture city



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Neighborhood grocery stores, coal yards, gas stations, cheap taverns, big old rundown houses, a few churches with blank embarrassed faces.

Ross Macdonald


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I found when I followed the driveway around to the back that behind its imposing front it was just another tract house, as if the architect had tried to combine a southern plantation mansion with the slave quarters.

Ross Macdonald

Tags: architecture



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A cockroach stepped out from behind the ketchup, gave me a quick impassive once-over, decided that I was of the Brahmin faith, and walked earnestly across the table on errands of his own. Somebody had left a newspaper on the bench beside me, and I picked it up and swatted the cockroach, permitting his soul to transmigrate into the body of a quartermaster.

Ross Macdonald


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The walls were lined with books, many of them in foreign languages, like insulation against the immediate present.

Ross Macdonald

Tags: reading books literature escapism



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as if by behaving modestly and discreetly they could make the fire stay up on the mountain and die there, like an unwanted god.

Ross Macdonald


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