She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket.
Interpretation
The quote conveys a deep emotional connection that a smile can bring, suggesting it has lasting value.
In this quote, Raymond Chandler captures the enchanting and impactful nature of a smile, emphasizing how a simple gesture can leave a profound impression on oneβs heart and mind. The imagery of a smile being felt in a 'hip pocket' suggests that such a smile is both treasured and held close, evoking warmth and affection that one can carry with them throughout their day.
In practice
Using this quote in a wedding speech to express the joy brought by love.
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.
What most did not understand then was that I was not only married to the man I loved, but I was also married to the movement that I loved.
People cry at weddings for the same reason they cry at happy endings: because they so desperately want to believe in something they know is not credible.
A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
So I be written in the Book of Love. I do not care about that Book Above. Erase my name, or write it as you will. So I be written in the Book of Love.
...once I falsely hoped to meet the beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding.
I didn't know what hate felt like, not the hate that comes after love. It's huge and desperate and it longs to be proved wrong. And every day it's proved right it grows a little more monstrous. If the love was passion, the hate will be obsession. A need to see the once-loved weak and cowed beneath pity. Disgust is close and dignity is far away. The hate is not only for the once loved, it's for yourself too; how could you ever have loved this?
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