Farewell, My Lovely, p. 279

...and I held them for a moment and then let go slowly as you let go of a dream when you wake with the sun in your face and have been in an enchanted valley.

The Lady in the Lake, ?

This is the ultimate end of the fog belt, and the beginning of that semi-desert region where the sun is as light and dry as old sherry in the morning, as hot as a blast furnace at noon, and drops like an angry brick at nightfall.