A city with all the personality of a paper cup. (On Los Angeles)
Interpretation
This quote critiques Los Angeles as lacking genuine character and depth.
Raymond Chandler's comparison of Los Angeles to a paper cup suggests that the city is disposable and superficial, lacking the rich, vibrant qualities that define an authentic identity. It reflects Chandler's observation that the city's facade is superficial, emphasizing its transience and lack of substance, similar to something that is thrown away after a single use.
In practice
This quote could be used in a discussion about urban development and authenticity in cities.
Undoubtedly the stories about them [hard-boiled detectives] had a fantastic element. Such things happened, but not so rapidly, nor to so close-knit a group of people, nor within so narrow a frame of logic. This was inevitable because the demand was for constant action; if you stopped to think you were lost. When in doubt, have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand.
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.
Organized crime is the dirty side of the sharp dollar.
When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.
The flood of print has turned reading into a process of gulping rather than savoring.
If my books had been any worse, I should not have been invited to Hollywood, and if they had been any better, I should not have come.
A man is not saved against his will, but he is made willing by the operation of the Holy Ghost. A mighty grace which he does not wish to resist enters into the man, disarms him, makes a new creature of him, and he is saved.
Life knows us not and we do not know lifeβ-we donβt know even our own thoughts. Half the words we use have no meaning whatever and of the other half each man understands each word after the fashion of his own folly and conceit. Faith is a myth and beliefs shift like mists on the shore; thoughts vanish; words, once pronounced, die; and the memory of yesterday is as shadowy as the hope of tomorrow
the voice of beauty speaks softly; it creeps only into the most fully awakened souls
The Man who works for others, without any selfish motive, really does good to himself.
What is it the Bible teaches us? -- rapine, cruelty, and murder.
A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean question: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well - or ill?
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