If I were a piano player, I'd play it in the goddam closet.

How that name comes up. Mixing memory and desire

A confessional passage has probably never been written that didn't stink a little bit of the writer's pride in having given up his pride.

I love you to pieces, distraction, etc.

If a body catch a body coming through the rye.

I don’t think it would have all got me quite so down if just once in a while—just once in a while—there was at least some polite little perfunctory implication that knowledge should lead to wisdom, and that if it doesn't, it's just a disgusting waste of time! But there never is! You never even hear any hints dropped on a campus that wisdom is supposed to be the goal of knowledge. You hardly ever even hear the word 'wisdom' mentioned!

Boy, did he depress me! I don't mean he was a bad guy- he wasn't. But you don't have to be bad guy to depress somebody- you can be a good guy and do it.