Give me a story that just makes me unreasonably vigilant. Keep me up till five only because all your stars are out, and for no other reason.

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

She worries over the way her love for me comes and goes, appears and disappears. She doubts its reality simply because it isn't as steadily pleasurable as a kitten. God knows it is sad. The human voice conspires to desecrate everything on earth.

I have scars on my hands from touching certain people…Certain heads, certain colours and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me.

Yet a real artist, I've noticed, will survive anything. (Even praise, I happily suspect.)

Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do.

He seemed unaware of the messiness of the arrangement.