It Is Wrong To Be Harsh With

It Is Not Funny That A Man Should Be Killed, But It Is Sometimes Funny That He Should Be Killed For So Little, And That His Death Should Be The Coin Of What We Call Civilization.

Your Rat Tail Is All The Fashion Now. I Prefer A Bushy Plume, Carried Straight Up. You Are Siamese And Your Ancestors Lived In Trees. Mine Lived In Palaces. It Has Been Suggested To Me That I Am A Bit Of A Snob. How True! I Prefer To Be.

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.

I Sat Down On The Edge Of A Deep Soft Chair And Looked At Mrs Regan. She Was Worth A Stare. She Was Trouble.

I Regard Psychiatry As Fifty Percent Bunk, Thirty Percent Fraud, Ten Percent Parrot Talk, And The Remaining Ten Percent Just A Fancy Lingo For The Common Sense We Have Had For Hundreds And Perhaps Thousands Of Years, If We Ever Had The Guts To Read.