It was the last game of the year and you were supposed to commit suicide or something if old Pencey didn't win.

Girls. You never know what they're going to think.

It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true.

His eldest sister (who modestly prefers to be identified here as a Tuckahoe homemaker) has asked me to describe him as looking like 'the blue-eyed Jewish-Irish Mohican scout who died in your arms at the roulette table at Monte Carlo.

People are mostly hot to have a discussion when you're not.

I don't really deeply feel that anyone needs an airtight reason for quoting from the works of writers he loves, but it's always nice, I'll grant you, if he has one.

She was not one for emptying her face of expression.