The challenge is to write about real things magically.
Writers who get written about become self-conscious. They develop a regrettable habit of looking at themselves through the eyes of other people. They are no longer alone, they have an investment in critical praise, and they think they must protect it. This leads to a diffusion of effort. The writer watches himself as he works. He grows more subtle and he pays for it by loss of organic dash.
Without magic, there is no art. Without art, there is no idealism. Without idealism, there is no integrity. Without integrity, there is nothing but production.
Hollywood is wonderful. Anyone who doesn't like it is either crazy or sober.
And the commercials would have sickened a goat raised on barbed wire and broken beer bottles.
I merely say that all reading for pleasure is escape, whether it be Greek, mathematics, astronomy, Benedetto Croce, or The Diary of the Forgotten Man. To say otherwise is to be an intellectual snob, and a juvenile at the art of living.
The test of a writer is whether you want to read him again years after he should by the rules be dated.
The challenge of screenwriting is to say much in little and then take half of that little out and still preserve an effect of leisure and natural movement
She was the music heard faintly on the edge of sound.
I don't mind your showing me your legs. They're very swell legs and it's a pleasure to make their acquaintance. I don't mind if you don't like my manners. They're pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings. But don't waste your time trying to cross-examine me.
You're broke, eh?" I been shaking two nickels together for a month, trying to get them to mate.
I certainly admire people who do things.
I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners. They’re pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings.
Courage is a strange thing: One can never be sure of it
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark little clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars.
The actual writing is what you live for. The rest is something you have to get through in order to arrive at the point.
A dead man is the best fall guy in the world. He never talks back.
Two very simple rules: A. You don't have to write. B. You can't do anything else The rest comes of itself.
The creative artist seems to be almost the only kind of man that you could never meet on neutral ground. You can only meet him as an artist. He sees nothing objectively because his own ego is always in the foreground of every picture
An age which is incapable of poetry is incapable of any kind of literature except the cleverness of a decadence.
I think a man ought to get drunk at least twice a year just on principle, so he won't let himself get snotty about it.
I'm a licensed private investigator and have been for quite a while. I'm a lone wolf, unmarried, getting middle-aged, and not rich. I've been in jail more than once and I don't do divorce business. I like liquor and women and chess and a few other things. The cops don't like me too well, but I know a couple I get along with. I'm a native son, born in Santa Rosa, both parents dead, no brothers or sisters, and when I get knocked off in a dark alley sometime, if it happens, as it could to anyone in my business, nobody will feel that the bottom has dropped out of his or her life.
Mostly I just kill time," he said, "and it dies hard.
Some days I feel like playing it smooth. Some days I feel like playing it like a waffle iron.
We have the whitest kitchens and the most shining bathrooms in the world. But in the lovely white kitchen the average [person] can’t produce a meal fit to eat, and the lovely shining bathroom is mostly a receptacle for deodorants, laxatives, sleeping pills, and the products of that confidence racket called the cosmetic industry. We make the finest packages in the world, Mr Marlowe. The stuff inside is mostly junk." —
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