I'm rich. Who the hell wants to be happy? - Raymond Chandler

Go on home and knit socks, darling,

Maybe it's the TV commercials. They make you hate everything they try to sell. God, they must think the public is a halfwit. Every time some jerk in a white coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck holds up some toothpaste or a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of beer or a mouthwash or a jar of shampoo or a little box of something that makes a fat wrestler smell like mountain lilac I always make note never to buy any. Hell, I wouldn't buy the product even if I liked it.

A few locks of dry white hair clung to his scalp, like wild flowers fighting for life on a bare rock.