Ross Thomas

Ross Thomas (February 19, 1926 in Oklahoma City – December 18, 1995 in Santa Monica, California) was an American writer of crime fiction.

Cast a Yellow Shadow (1967)

 * Never end a sentence with a preposition,” he recited. “Not never; just seldom.


 * You can grieve when someone dies. But when someone is near death, and there is the chance that you might prevent it if you make the right decision, anxiety takes over.
 * Eight-fifteen in the morning in Washington is not a happy time.
 * Does she know all the people she says she knows?” “She knows everybody.” “Maybe that’s why she’s getting old.


 * Another good touch. What do we charge for a regular martini?” “Ninty-five cents—ninety-eight cents with tax. What's it do to the tips?” Builds them.  There aren’t as many dimes and nickels around, so they usually leave two-bits.  The two cents' change is a sting to conscience.”


 * You watch television much?” Padillo asked. “Some,” I said. “It’s like China.  If you ignore it, it just gets worse.


 * They were chosen to die because somebody in our government thought that the world would be a better place to live if they weren’t around any more. Perhaps they thought it would make a difference, and maybe the world did get better for them because they received a promotion or a discrete commendation.  But it didn’t change things much for the rest of us.


 * Your countrymen, McCorkle, are seemingly indifferent to what happens in Africa. Most of them don’t care about what happens here, as long as it happens on the next block.