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It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.
J. D. Salinger
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J. D. Salinger
Age: 91 †
Born: 1919
Born: January 1
Died: 2010
Died: January 27
Author
Novelist
Writer
New York City
New York
Jerome David Salinger
Jerome Salinger
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Sun
Terrifically
Cold
Holden
Crazy
Catchers
Felt
Disappearing
Anything
Crossed
Every
Afternoon
Kind
Disappear
Time
Road
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It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world.
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The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid.
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Girls. You never know what they're going to think.
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We don't talk, we hold forth. We don't converse, we expound.
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Where do the ducks go in the winter?
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You don't know how to talk to people you don't like. Don't love, really. You can't live in the world with such strong likes and dislikes.
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I knew it wasn't too important, but it made me sad anyway.
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She wrote to him fairly regularly, from a paradise of triple exclamation points and inaccurate observations.
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Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row.
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If I'd wanted this place to fill up with every fat Irish rose that passes by, I'd've said so.
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Who in the Bible besides Jesus knew--knew--that we're carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside, where we're all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginative to look?
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All morons hate it when you call them a moron.
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I didn't want any degrees if all the ill-read literates and radio announcers and pedagogical dummies I knew had them by the peck.
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Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.
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That's the terrible part. I swear to God I'm a madman.
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who wants flowers when youre dead? nobody.
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For joy, apparently, it was all Franny could do to hold the phone, even with both hands.
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I just never felt so fantastically rocky in my entire life.
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I don't even know what I was running for—I guess I just felt like it.
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What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
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