It's no fun to be yellow. Maybe I'm not all yellow. I don't know. I think maybe I'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't give much of a damn if they lose their gloves. One of my troubles is, I never care too much when I lose something - it used to drive mother crazy when I was a kid. Some guys spend days looking for something they've lost. I never seem to have anything that if I lost it I'd care too much. Maybe that's why I'm partly yellow. It's no excuse, though. It really isn't. What you should be is not yellow at all.

And I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.

Liberate yourself from my vice-like grip!

That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any.

... even the most sublimely accomplished non-stop talker can't consistently please.

She was not one for emptying her face of expression.

I kept picturing all these little kids in this big field of rye... If they're running and they don't look where they're going, I have to come out from somewhere and catch them.