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You never even worried, with Jane, whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was, you were happy. You really were.
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
Hand
Whether
Happy
Hands
Holden
Even
Sweaty
Really
Jane
Never
Worried
Knew
More quotes by J. D. Salinger
Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.
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If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies. Don't even mention them to me.
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Don't hate me because I can't remember some person immediately. Especially when they look like everybody else, and talk and dress and act like everybody else.
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That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any.
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She was a girl who for a ringing phone dropped exactly nothing. She looked as if her phone had been ringing continually ever since she had reached puberty.
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There is a marvelous peace in not publishing ... I like to write. I love to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure.
J. D. Salinger
His icebergs are strange monuments with a symbol embodied in their form and their colours. They do not freeze you when you look at them, for they are not of ice, they are what Lawren Harris feels and thinks after he has contemplated them
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I think that one of these days, he said, you're going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you've got to start going there. But immediately. You can't afford to lose a minute. Not you.
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Are all your stars shining?
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It's not too bad when the sun's out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.
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If I were God, I certainly wouldn't want people to love me sentimentally. It's too unreliable.
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Were most of your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out?
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Sometimes I see me dead in the rain.
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The true poet has no choice of material. The material plainly chooses him, not he it.
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I'd never yell, Good luck! at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.
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That's the terrible part. I swear to God I'm a madman.
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Grand. There's a word I really hate. It's a phony. I could puke every time I hear it.
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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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A confessional passage has probably never been written that didn't stink a little bit of the writer's pride in having given up his pride.
J. D. Salinger
I prayed for the city to be cleared of people, for the gift of being alone—a-l-o-n-e: which is the one New York prayer that rarely gets lost or delayed in channels, and in no time at all everything I touched turned to solid loneliness.
J. D. Salinger
