The Catcher in the Rye

The thing with kids is, if they want to grab the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them.

You hate to tell new stuff to somebody around a hundred years old. They don't like to hear it.

I pictured her out with the Lunts and all somewhere, and that Andover jerk. All of them swimming around in a goddam pot of tea and saying sophisticated stuff to each other and being chaming and phony.

She said she had to meet her friend. Kids always have to meet their friend. That kills me.

I can understand somebody going to the movies because there's nothing else to do, but when somebody really wants to go, and even walks fast so as to get there quicker, then it depresses hell out of me.

Catholics are always trying to find out if you're a Catholic.

People always clap for the wrong things.

So we said good-by and all. I told them I'd look them up in Seattle sometime, if I ever got there, but I doubt if I ever will. Look them up, I mean.

Some people you shouldn't kid, even if they deserve it.

I danced with them all - the whole three of them - one at a time. The one ugly one, Laverne, wasn't too bad a dancer, bit the other one, Old Marty, was murder. Old Marty was like dragging the Statue of Liberty around the floor.