Lane himself lit a cigarette as the train pulled in. Then, like so many people, who, perhaps, ought to be issued only a very probational pass to meet trains, he tried to empty his face of all expression that might quite simply, perhaps even beautifully, reveal how he felt about the arriving person. Franny was among the first of the girls to get off the train, from a car at the far, northern end of the platform. Lane spotted her immediately, and despite whatever it was he was trying to do with his face, his arm that shot up into the air was the whole truth.
J. D. SalingerI love to write and I assure you I write regularly... But I write for myself, for my own pleasure. And I want to be left alone to do it.
J. D. SalingerBoy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead?
J. D. SalingerWhen I really worry about something, I donโt just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I donโt go. Iโm too worried to go. I donโt want to interrupt my worrying to go.
J. D. Salinger