Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.

You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now. Far more a part of it than Rusty Regan was.

The first time we met I told you I was a detective. Get it through your lovely head. I work at it, lady. I don't play at it.

- No estoy dispuesto a hablar, Eddie. ¿Por qué iba a hacerlo?Dejó la pistola sobre el escritorio y la golpeó con la mano abierta.- Esto -dijo-. Y yo podría hacer que le resultara provechoso.- Ya, eso suena mejor. No meta la pistola en este asunto. Yo siempre estoy dispuesto a escuchar el sonido del dinero.

His voice was the elaborately casual voice of the tough guy in pictures. Pictures have made them all like that.

I don't greatly care for passes this early in the morning.