Sentimentality is loving something more than God does.
J. D. SALINGERI 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.
More J. D. Salinger Quotes
-
-
Sometimes you get tired of riding in taxicabs the same way you get tired riding in elevators. All of a sudden, you have to walk, no matter how far or how high up.
J. D. SALINGER -
I have scars on my hands from touching certain people.
J. D. SALINGER -
You think of the book you’d most like to be reading, and then you sit down and shamelessly write it.
J. D. SALINGER -
Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.
J. D. SALINGER -
Sleep tight, ya morons!
J. D. SALINGER -
She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.
J. D. SALINGER -
I’ll read my books and I’ll drink coffee and I’ll listen to music, and I’ll bolt the door.
J. D. SALINGER -
It’s not too bad when the sun’s out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.
J. D. SALINGER -
I don’t exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it.
J. D. SALINGER -
Its really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs.
J. D. SALINGER -
The worst thing that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly.
J. D. SALINGER -
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 -
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 -
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 -
If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late? Nobody.
J. D. SALINGER






