However contradictory the coroner's report — whether he pronounces Consumption or Loneliness or Suicide to be the cause of death — isn't it plain how the true artist-seer actually dies? I say that the true artist-seer, the heavenly fool who can and does produce beauty, is mainly dazzled to death by his own scruples, the blinding shapes and colors of his own sacred human conscience.

That's something that annoys the hell out of me-I mean if somebody says the coffee's all ready and it isn't.

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.

The catcher in the rye... that's all I really want to be.

If I'd wanted this place to fill up with every fat Irish rose that passes by, I'd've said so.

People never believe you.

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