Seven at night in Tucson, get some bisquick for the dumplings. Have some bacon. Go to Hadley's in the kitchen right beside the frying steak —Diana on the phone—get a little plastic bag from Drum— Fill it up with tarragon and chili.

Ah I my heart, / Lift up your voice; take songsome part, / And swell the chorus grand.

And whenever anybody at Marchicomo's mentions the Kashons, they tend to call them A-rabs, camelfuckers, ragheads. Lou digs into his jacket pocket, deposits a mess of paper on the table. No money this time, but some numbers slips,[…]

And nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.