He (the Agent) Just Takes Ten Per

I Don’t Mind If You Don’t Like My Manners. They’re Pretty Bad. I Grieve Over Them During The Long Winter Evenings.

At Least Half The Mystery Novels Published Violate The Law That The Solution, Once Revealed, Must Seem To Be Inevitable.

Throw Up Into Your Typewriter Every Morning. Clean Up Every Noon.

However Toplofty And Idealistic A Man May Be, He Can Always Rationalize His Right To Earn Money.

A Nice State Of Affairs When A Man Has To Indulge His Vices By Proxy.