Here’s a few from my latest read, Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep, a hard-boiled Philip Marlowe detective novel from the ‘30s:
Quote:
I read all three of the morning papers over my eggs and bacon the next morning. Their accounts of the affair came as close to the truth as newspaper stories usually come—as close as Mars is to Saturn.
Quote:
Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness.
Quote:
He wore a blue uniform coat that fitted him the way a stall fits a horse.
Quote:
Blood began to move around in me, like a perspective tenant looking over a house.
I liked this one, not exactly anthropomorphism, more like felinemorphism:
Quote:
I reached with my foot, but the starter button had to be on the dash. I found it at last, pulled it and the starter ground. The warm motor caught at once. It purred softly, contentedly.
Also I liked it because in this scene Marlowe is trying to find the starter first with his foot, then he checked the dash. We used to have an old Willy’s Jeep that had the starter button on the floor, under the clutch pedal.