The existence of God, the why of life, was all that really only a question of glands?
We don’t talk, we hold forth. We don’t converse, we expound.
I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the only thing I’d really like to be. I know it’s crazy.
Phooey, I say, on all white-shoe college boys who edit their campus literary magazines. Give me an honest con man any day.
You don’t always have to get too sexy to get to know a girl.
Sensitive. That killed me. That guy Morrow was about as sensitive as a toilet seat.
Are all your stars shining?
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.
If I’d wanted this place to fill up with every fat Irish rose that passes by, I’d’ve said so.
Some of my best friedns are children. In fact, all of my best friends are children.
Hell is the suffering of being unable to love.
The room was not impressively large, even by Manhattan apartment-house standards, but its accumulated furnishings might have lent a snug appearance to a banquet hall in Valhalla.
I ignored the flashes of lightning all around me. They either had your number on them or they didn’t.
I’ve never seen such a bunch of apple-eaters.
In my mind, I’m probably the biggest sex maniac you ever saw.
She was wearing a canary-yellow two-piece bathing suit, one piece of which she would not actually be needing for another nine or ten years.
Girls. You never know what they’re going to think.
It’s so silly. All you do is get the heck out of your body when you die. My gosh, everybody’s done it thousands of times. Just because they don’t remember, it doesn’t mean they haven’t done it.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s the movies. Don’t even mention them to me.
I’m known as a strange, aloof kind of man. But all I’m doing is trying to protect myself and my work.