If you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.
The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for 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.
Liberate yourself from my vice-like grip!
I just never felt so fantastically rocky in my entire life.
Or you’d just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you’d be different in some way – I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it.
This is God’s universe, buddy, not yours, and he has the final say about what’s ego and what isn’t.
He was one of those guys that think they’re being a pansy if they don’t break around forty of your fingers when they shake hands with you. God I hate that stuff.
Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.
In every school I’ve gone to, all the athletic bastards stick together.
If a body catch a body coming through the rye.
Give me an honest con man any day.
I don’t really deeply feel that anyone needs an airtight reason for quoting from the works of the writers he loves, but it’s always nice, I’ll grant you, if he has one.
I mean they don’t seem able to love us just the way we are. They don’t seem able to love us unless they can keep changing us a little bit. They love their reasons for loving us almost as much as they love us, and most of the time more.
It’s partly true, too, but it isn’t all true. People always think something’s all true.
It’s one of those places that are supposed to be very sophisticated and all, and the phonies are coming in the window.
It’s nice when somebody tells you about their uncle. Especially when they start out telling you about their father’s farm and then all of a sudden get more interested in their uncle.
She’s quite skinny, like me, but nice skinny. Roller-skate skinny. I watched her once from the window when she was crossing over Fifth Avenue to go to the park, and that’s what she is, roller-skate skinny. You’d like her.
My god, there’s absolutely nothing tenth-rate about you, and yet you’re up to your neck at this minute in tenth-rate thinking.
It isn’t very serious, I have this tiny little tumor on the brain.
Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.