If you can't write like New York, you have no business living in New York and making New York the locale of your stories. — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
A home is not a museum. It doesn't have to be furnished with Picasso paintings, or Sheraton suites, or Oriental rugs, or Chinese pottery.… — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
“By nine, Mildred was powdered, puffed, perfumed, and patted to that state of semi-transparency that a woman seems to achieve when she is really… — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
“I ripped all her clothes off. She twisted and turned, slow, so they would slip out from under her. Then she closed her eyes… — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
“Then she got up, went to Monty's mirror, and began combing her hair, while little cadenzas absentmindedly cascaded out of her throat, and cold drops cascaded over Mildred's heart. For Veda was stark naked. From the massive, singer's torso, with the Dairy quaking in front, to the slim hips, to the lovely legs, there wasn't so much as a garter… — James M. Cain Copy Share
If your writing doesn't keep you up at night, it won't keep anyone else up either". — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
“Up close, she could see the sharp, cold, look that she constantly shot at Mr. Treviso, particularly when there was a break, and she… — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
I make no conscious effort to be tough, or hard-boiled, or grim, or any of the things I am usually called. I merely try to write as the character would write, and I never forget that the average man, from the fields, the streets, the bars, the offices and even the gutters of his country, has acquired a vividness of… — James M. Cain Copy Share
She was a little given to rehearsing things in her mind, and having imaginary triumphs over people who had upset her in one way… — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
“She looked like the great grandmother of every whore in the world. The devil got his money's worth that night.” — James M. Cain Copy Share Image
