Even on Central Avenue, not the quietest dressed street in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.

The old man nodded, as if his neck was afraid of the weight of his head.

He had a battered face that looked as if it had been hit by everything but the bucket of a dragline. It was scarred, flattened, thickened, checkered, and welte…

A few locks of dry white hair clung to his scalp, like wild flowers fighting for life on a bare rock.

She had a lot of face and chin. She had pewter-colored hair set in a ruthless permanent, a hard beak, and large moist eyes with the sympathetic expression of w…

'Clothes and manners do not make the man, but where he is made they greatly improve his appearance.'

An immensely tall, angular figure ... His gown hung round him in long folds like the wings of a bat, and his wig was perched slightly askew over a lantern jawe…