You can't exist in this world with such strong likes and dislikes... by J. D. Salinger

You can't exist in this world with such strong likes and dislikes.

J. D. Salinger

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Categorized in : World Strong Likes And Dislikes

It is my rather subversive opinion that a writer's feelings of anonymity-obscurity are the second most valuable property on loan to him during his working years.

obscurity feelings years

I don't suppose a writing man ever really gets rid of his old crocus-yellow neckties. Sooner or later, I think, they show up in his prose, and there isn't a hell of a lot he can do about it.

writing men thinking

There is a marvelous peace in not publishing. It's peaceful. Still. Publishing is a terrible invasion of my privacy. I like to write. I live to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure. I don't necessarily intend to publish posthumously, but I do like to write for myself. I pay for this kind of attitude. I'm known as a strange, aloof kind of man. But all I'm doing is trying to protect myself and my work.

writing attitude men

If you weren't around, I'd probably be someplace way the hell off. In the woods or some goddamn place. You're the only reason I'm around, practically.

hell woods way

I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I'm sick of myself and everybody else that wants to make some kind of a splash.

sick kind want

Get your dirty stinking moron knees off my chest. by J. D. Salinger

Get your dirty stinking moron knees off my chest.

moron knees dirty

Against my better judgment I feel certain that somewhere very near here—the first house down the road, maybe—there's a good poet dying, but also somewhere very near here somebody's having a hilarious pint of pus taken from her lovely young body, and I can't be running back and forth forever between grief and high delight.

grief taken running

God, I wish you could have been there. by J. D. Salinger

God, I wish you could have been there.

wish-you could-have-been wish

I like to be somewhere at least where you can see a few girls around once in a while, even if they're only scratching their arms or blowing their noses or even just giggling or something.

arms girl noses

I privately say to you, old friend... please accept from me this unpretentious bouquet of early-blooming parentheses: (((()))).

blooming bouquets old-friends

I held hands with her all the time...that doesn't sound like much, I realize, but she was terrific to hold hands with. Most girls if you hold hands with them, their goddam hand dies on you, or else they think they have to keep moving their hand all the time, as if they were afraid they'd bore you or something.

girl moving thinking

I live alone (but catless, I'd like everybody to know). by J. D. Salinger

I live alone (but catless, I'd like everybody to know).

knows

That's the terrible part. I swear to God I'm a madman. by J. D. Salinger

That's the terrible part. I swear to God I'm a madman.

swear-to-god madmen terrible

I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him, though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake--especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all.

alive people thinking

Real ugly girls have it tough. I feel so sorry for them sometimes... by J. D. Salinger

Real ugly girls have it tough. I feel so sorry for them sometimes.

girl real sorry

There are still a few men who love desperately. by J. D. Salinger

There are still a few men who love desperately.

stills men

I think that one of these days," he said, "you're going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you've got to start going there. But immediately. You can't afford to lose a minute. Not you.

minutes want thinking

John Keats / John Keats / John / Please put your scarf on. by J. D. Salinger

John Keats / John Keats / John / Please put your scarf on.

scarves please

There is a marvelous peace in not publishing ... I like to write. I love to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure.

publishing pleasure writing

While I was walking I passed these two guys that were unloading this big Christmas tree off a truck. One guy, kept saying to the other guy, 'Hold the sonunvabitch up! Hold it up, for Chrissake!' It certainly was a gorgeous way to talk about a Christmas tree.

guy tree two