The existence of God, the why of life, was all that really only a question of glands?

I’m not going to bed after all. Somebody around here hath murdered sleep. Good for him.

You take somebody that cries their goddam eyes out over phoney stuff in the movies, and nine times out of ten they're mean bastards at heart.

I'm up to my ears in unwritten words.

I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.

Zooey said... It would be very nice to come home and be in the wrong house. To eat dinner with the wrong people by mistake, sleep in the wrong bed by mistake, and kiss everybody good-bye in the morning thinking they were your own family.

Where do the ducks go in the winter?