The stage on which we play our little dramas of life and love has for most of us but one setting.
McKnight is gradually taking over the criminal end of the business.
Young Doctor Arden was gong through the process of reorienting himself after a night's sleep.
Natalie Spenser was giving a dinner. She was not an easy hostess.
Some day some one will write a book about that frantic search of the creative worker for silence and freedom, not only from interruption but from the fear of interruption.
there is something shameful about the death of a play. It does not die with pity, but contempt. A book may fail, but who is there to know it? It dies and is buried, and is decently interred on the bookseller's shelf; but the play dies to laughter, to scorn and disdain.
my crime books are actually novels and are written as such. One might even say that each one is really two novels, one of which is the story I tell the reader, and the other the buried story I know and let slip now and then into a clue to whet the reader's interest.