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Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.

J. D. Salinger

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

Pride Writing
I mean how do you know what you’re going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don’t. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it’s a stupid question.
J. D. SALINGER

Myself Stupidity Thinking Yourself
Do you know what I was smiling at? You wrote down that you were a writer by profession. It sounded to me like the loveliest euphemism I had ever heard. When was writing ever your profession? It’s never been anything but your religion.
J. D. SALINGER

Love Myself Religion Smile Writing
People are mostly hot to have a discussion when you’re not.
J. D. SALINGER

People Yourself
Grand. There’s a word I really hate. It’s a phony. I could puke every time I hear it.
J. D. SALINGER

Hate Myself Phone Time Word
I have scars on my hands from touching certain people…Certain heads, certain colours and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me.
J. D. SALINGER

Hands Human Myself Scars Touch
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?
J. D. SALINGER

Carry Emotional Heaven Imaginational Stupidity
Know your true measurements and dress your mind accordingly.
J. D. SALINGER

Mindset True
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.
J. D. SALINGER

Live Love People Strong Talk World Yourself
Nobody who’s really using his ego, his real ego, has any time for any goddam hobbies.
J. D. SALINGER

Attitude Himself Reality
Mothers are all slightly insane.
J. D. SALINGER

Mad Mom One Liner Sanity
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

Cold Crazy Kind Road Sun Time
And I have one of those very loud, stupid laughs. I mean if I ever sat behind myself in a movie or something, I’d probably lean over and tell myself to please shut up.
J. D. SALINGER

Laugh Myself Stupidity
We are, all four of us, blood relatives, and we speak a kind of esoteric, family language, a sort of semantic geometry in which the shortest distance between any two points is a fullish circle.
J. D. SALINGER

Distance Family Kind Language Relationship Talk
I’m one of the little foxes that spoil the grapes.
J. D. SALINGER

Food Myself Oneself
We don’t talk, we hold forth. We don’t converse, we expound.
J. D. SALINGER

Talk

Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.

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Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.

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