The Catcher in the Rye

by J.D. Salinger

Just to stop lying. Once I get started, I can go on for hours if I feel like it.

You never saw a little kid so pretty and smart in your whole life.

I almost wished I was dead.

most of the time when you’re coming pretty close to doing it with a girl—a girl that isn’t a prostitute or anything, I mean—she keeps telling you to stop. The trouble with me is, I stop. Most guys don’t.

What I really felt like, though, was committing suicide.

You figured most of them would probably marry dopey guys. Guys that always talk about how many miles they get to a gallon in their goddam cars. Guys that get sore and childish as hell if you beat them at golf, or even just some stupid game like ping-pong. Guys that are very mean. Guys that never read books.

Boy, do I hate it,” I said. “But it isn’t just that. It’s everything.

old Jesus probably would’ve puked if He could see it

you got to hate everybody in the world,

I kept putting my hand under my jacket, on my stomach and all, to keep the blood from dripping all over the place. I didn’t want anybody to know I was even wounded.

Insane symbolism

‘The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.’”

You’re a student—whether the idea appeals to you or not. You’re in love with knowledge.