Great Critics, Of Whom There Are Piteously

As It Is She Will Probably Turn Out To Be One Of These Acid-faced Virgins That Sit Behind Little Desks In Public Libraries And Stamp Dates In Books.

The Streets Were Dark With Something More Then Night.

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.

If I Wasn't Hard, I Wouldn't Be Alive. If I Couldn't Ever Be Gentle, I Wouldn't Deserve To Be Alive.

I'm A Very Smart Guy. I Haven't A Feeling Or A Scruple In The World. All I Have The Itch For Is Money. I Am So Money Greedy That For Twenty-five Bucks A Day And Expenses, Mostly Gasoline And Whisky, I Do My Thinking Myself, What There Is Of It; I Risk My Whole Future, The Hatred Of The Cops . . . I Dodge Bullets And Eat Saps, And Say Thank You Very Much, If You Have Any More Trouble, I Hope You'll Think Of Me, I'll Just Leave One Of My Cards In Case Anything Comes Up.