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There are nice things in the world – and I mean nice things. We’re all such morons to get so sidetracked.

J. D. Salinger

I’m sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody.
J. D. SALINGER

Courage Myself Sickness
I told her I loved her and all. It was a lie, of course, but the thing is, I meant it when I said it. I’m crazy. I swear to God I am.
J. D. SALINGER

Crazy God Herself Lie Love Myself
You don’t have to think too hard when you talk to teachers.
J. D. SALINGER

Talk Teaching Thinking Yourself
I could happily lie down and die sometimes.
J. D. SALINGER

Death Happiness Lie Myself
I have so much I want to tell you, and nowhere to begin.
J. D. SALINGER

Beginning Myself
How long should a man’s legs be? Long enough to touch the ground.
J. D. SALINGER

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

Emotion Poet
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

Walk Yourself
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 sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.
J. D. SALINGER

God Myself Respect Sick
Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do.
J. D. SALINGER

Laugh Marriage Yourself
The true poet has no choice of material. The material plainly chooses him, not he it.
J. D. SALINGER

Choice Material Poet True
You think of the book you’d most like to be reading, and then you sit down and shamelessly write it.
J. D. SALINGER

Book Reading Shame Thinking Writing Yourself
We don’t talk, we hold forth. We don’t converse, we expound.
J. D. SALINGER

Talk
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
Why’s it so sunny? she repeated. Zooey observed her rather narrowly. I bring the sun wherever I go, buddy, he said.
J. D. SALINGER

Herself Sun

There are nice things in the world – and I mean nice things. We’re all such morons to get so sidetracked.

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There are nice things in the world – and I mean nice things. We’re all such morons to get so sidetracked.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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