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It happens to be one of those days when I see everybody in the family, including myself, through the wrong end of a telescope.
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
Days
Everybody
Wrong
Family
Happens
Ends
Telescope
Telescopes
Including
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Her joke of a name aside, her general unprettiness aside, she was, in terms of permanently memorable, immoderately perceptive, small-area faces, a stunning and final girl.
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I ignored the flashes of lightning all around me. They either had your number on them or they didn't.
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I'd never yell, Good luck! at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.
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... even the most sublimely accomplished non-stop talker can't consistently please.
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Pencey was full of crooks. Quite a few guys came from these wealthy families, but it was full of crooks anyway. The more expensive a school is, the more crooks it has - I'm not kidding.
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Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.
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In my mind, I'm probably the biggest sex maniac you ever saw.
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who wants flowers when youre dead? nobody.
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I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it.
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In every school I've gone to, all the athletic bastards stick together.
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Don't tell people what you are thinking, or you will miss them terribly when you are away.
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Oh, this happiness is strong stuff.
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There isn't anyone anywhere who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know — listen to me, now — don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.
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Are all your stars shining?
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I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.
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I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It’s disgusting.
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It isn't very serious, I have this tiny little tumor on the brain.
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In the first place, you’re way off when you start railing at things and people instead of at yourself.
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I privately say to you, old friend... please accept from me this unpretentious bouquet of early-blooming parentheses: (((()))).
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Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row.
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