The plants

The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men.

—from The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

I thought I'd post something other than Charles Fort tonight, so when I checked my notebook it reminded me that the Commonplace Book's most recent incarnation actually began several months ago as I was re-reading my Chandler collection.

Raymond Chandler is one of my favorite authors. His books are like good music that you never tire of listening to or good art that you never tire of seeing—you never get tired of reading it.

I have read many authors. But there are still only a handful that have made me sincerely wish I could write like they did: Tolkien, Lovecraft, Philip K. Dick, Theodore Sturgeon, and Raymond Chandler.