The Catcher in the Rye Quotes - Page 7 | Just Great DataBase

I cut going there entirely, gradually.

Old Luce. He was strictly a pain in the ass, but he certainly had a good vocabulary. He had the largest vocabulary of any boy at Whooton when I was there. They gave us a test.

When I really worry about something, I don´t just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don´t go. I´m too worried to go. I don´t want to interrupt my worrying to go.

The Navy guy and I told each other we were glad to've met each other. Which always kils me. I'm always saing 'Glad to've met you' to somebody I'm not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.

How do you know what you're going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don't.

Sometimes I talk a little loud when I get excited.

You're a very, very strange boy.""I know it", I said.

I have a feeling that you’re riding for some kind of terrible, terrible fall. . . . The whole arrangement’s designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn’t supply them with. . . . So they gave up looking.

It's hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs.

I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost wish I was dead.

I mean how do you know what you're going to do till you do it?

I’m not too sure what the name of the song was that he was playing when I came in, but whatever it was, he was really stinking it up. He was putting all these dumb, show-offy ripples in the high notes, and a lot of other very tricky stuff that gives me a pain in the ass. You should’ve heard the crowd, though, when he was finished. You would’ve puked. They went mad. They were exactly the same morons that laugh like hyenas in the movies at stuff that isn’t funny. I swear to God, if I were a piano player or an actor or something and all those dopes though I was terrific, I’d hate it. I wouldn’t even want them to clap for me. People always clap for the wrong things. If I were a piano player, I’d play it in the goddam closet. Anyway, when he was finished, and everybody was clapping their heads off, old Ernie turned around on his stool and gave this very phony, humble bow. Like as if he was a helluva humble guy, besides being a terrific piano player. It was very phony—I mean him being such a big snob and all. In a funny way, though, I felt sort of sorry for him when he was finished. I don’t even think he knows any more when he’s playing right or not. It isn’t all his fault. I partly blame all those dopes that clap their heads off—they’d foul up anybody, if you gave them a chance.

You'd have thought she did it because she was kindhearted as hell, but I was sitting right next to her, and she wasn't. She had this little kid with her that was bored as hell and had to go to the bathroom, but she wouldn't take him. She kept telling him to sit still and behave himself. She was about as kindhearted as a goddam wolf. You take somebody that cries their goddam eyes out over phony stuff in the movies, and nine times out of ten they're mean bastards at heart.

What made it even more depressing, old Spencer had on this very sad, ratty old bathrobe that he was probably born in or something.

Sometimes I act a lot older than I am- I really do- but people never notice it. People never notice anything.

Don't ever tell anybody anything, or you'll start missing everybody.

-Hey, listen," I said. "You know those ducks in that lagoon right near Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?" I realized it was only one chance in a million.

Real ugly girls have it tough. I feel so sorry for them sometimes. Sometimes I can't even look at them, especially if they're with some dopey guy that's telling them all about a goddam football game.

Hi,' he said. He always said it like he was terrifically bored or terrifically tired. He didn't want you to think he was visiting you or anything. He wanted you to think he'd come in by mistake, for God's sake.

Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy.

Sicché andò a finire che feci il tema sul guantone da baseball di mio fratello Allie. […] Mio fratello Allie, dunque aveva quel guantone da prenditore, il sinistro. Lui era mancino. La cosa descrittiva di quel guanto, però, era che c’erano scritte delle poesie su tutte le dita e il palmo e dappertutto. In inchiostro verde. Ce le aveva scritte lui, così aveva qualcosa da leggere quando stava ad asp...ettare e nessuno batteva. Ora è morto. Gli è venuta la leucemia ed è morto quando stavamo nel Maine, il 18 luglio del 1946. Vi sarebbe piaciuto. Aveva due anni meno di me, ma era cinquanta volte più intelligente di me. Era di un’intelligenza fantastica. […] Aveva solo tredici anni e loro volevano farmi psicanalizzare e compagnia bella perché avevo spaccato tutte le finestre del garage. Non posso biasimarli. Ho dormito nel garage la notte che lui è morto, e ho spaccato col pugno tutte quelle dannate finestre, così, tanto per farlo. Ho tentato anche di spaccare tutti i finestrini della giardinetta che avevamo quell’estate, ma a quel punto mi ero già rotto la mano eccetera eccetera, e non ho potuto. È stata una cosa proprio stupida, chi lo nega, ma io quasi non sapevo nemmeno quello che stavo facendo, e poi voi non conoscevate Allie.

Nobody knows how to do it except the Egyptians. Even modern science.

- (...) Só falou nisso de a Vida ser um jogo e assim. Sabe como é.- A Vida é um jogo, meu rapaz. A Vida é um jogo que se joga seguindo as regras.- Pois é, senhor professor. Eu sei que é. Eu sei.Um jogo, uma ova. Raio de jogo. Se calhamos do lado onde estão todos os craques, está bem que é um jogo... Concordo que é. Mas se calhamos do outro lado, onde não há craques nenhuns, então onde é que está o jogo? Nada. Jogo coisa nenhuma.

La gente batte sempre le mani per le cose sbagliate.

(...) o parvalhão reparou nela e aproximou-se para a cumprimentar. Haviam de ouvir a maneira como se cumprimentaram. Haviam de pensar que não se viam há vinte anos. Haviam de pensar que tomavam banho na mesma banheira ou coisa assim quando eram pequenos. Amigos do coração. Era de vómitos. O mais engraçado era que provavelmente se tinham encontrado uma única vez, numa festa pirosa qualquer. Finalmente, quando deram por terminadas as lambuzadelas, a amiga Sally apresentou-nos. Chamava-se George qualquer coisa - já nem sequer me lembro - e andava em Andover. Só mesmo visto. Haviam de o ver quando a amiga Sally lhe perguntou o que achava da peça. Era o tipo de armante que tem de se dar espaço para responder a qualquer pergunta que lhe façam.

On sul mõnikord kõigest villand? On sul mõnikord hirm, et kõik läheb kuradile, kui sa ise ei hakka vastu rabelema?

He said he talked to Jesus all the time. Even when he was driving his car. That killed me. I just see the big phony bastard shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs.

I thought the two ugly ones, Marty and Laverne, were sisters, but they got very insulted when I asked them. You could tell neither one of them wanted to look like the other one, and you couldn't blame them, but it was very amusing anyway.

Настанет день, и тебе придется решать, куда идти. И сразу надо идти туда, куда ты решил. Немедленно. Ты не имеешь права терять ни минуты. Тебе это нельзя.

По-моему, надо дать человеку выговориться, раз он начал интересно рассказывать и увлекся. Очень люблю, когда человек с увлечением рассказывает.

لا تروي ما حدث لك مثلما فعلت أنا، لأي إنسان، لأنك حين تفعل ذلك فلسوف تفتقد كل الناس .

I don't want to scare you," he said, "but I can very clearly see you dying nobly, one way or another, for some highly unworthy cause.

تمام آن مزخرفاتی که توی مجله ساتردی ایونینگ پست و آن جور مجله ها توی کاریکاتورها می کشند که مردهایی را نشان می دهد که گوشه خیابان ها مثل خوک تیرخورده ایستاده اند، چون معشوقه شان دیر کرده است - این ها همه اش دروغ و مزخرف است. اگر دختر موقعی که سر وعده اش می آید خوشگل و دلربا باشد، چه کسی به دیر آمدنش اهمیت می دهد؟

These intellectual guys don't like to have an intellectual conversation with you unless they're running the whole thing.

I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had. I started playing golf when I was only ten years old. I remember once, the summer I was around twelve, teeing off and all, and having a hunch that if I turned around all of a sudden, I'd see Allie. So I did, and sure enough, he was sitting on his bike outside the fence--there was this fence that went all around the course--and he was sitting there, about a hundred and fifty yards behind me, watching me tee off. That's the kind of red hair he had.

You're going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you've got to start going there.

I knew this one Catholic boy, Louis Shaney, when I was at the Whooton School. Then, after a while, right in the middle of the goddam conversation, he asked me, "Did you happen to notice where the Catholic church is in town, by any chance?" The thing was, you could tell by the way he asked me that he was trying to find out if I was a Catholic. He really was. Not that he was prejudiced or anything, but he just wanted to know. He was enjoying the conversation about tennis and all, but you could tell he would've enjoyed it more if I was a Catholic and all. That kind of stuff drives me crazy. I'm not saying it ruined our conversation or anything—it didn't—but it sure as hell didn't do it any good. That's why I was glad those two nuns didn't ask me if I was a Catholic. It wouldn't have spoiled the conversation if they had, but it would've been different, probably. I'm not saying I blame Catholics. I don't. I'd be the same way, probably, if I was a Catholic. It's just like those suitcases I was telling you about, in a way. All I'm saying is that it's no good for a nice conversation. That's all I'm saying.

I'm not trying to tell you," he said, "that only educated and scholarly men are able to contribute something valuable to the world. It's not so. But I do say that educated and scholarly men, if they're brilliant and creative to begin with — which, unfortunately, is rarely the case—tend to leave infinitely more valuable records behind them than men do who are merely brilliant and creative. They tend to express themselves more clearly, and they usually have a passion for following their thoughts through to the end. And — most important—nine times out of ten they have more humility than the unscholarly thinker.

That's depressing, when somebody says "please" to you.

He stuck around till around dinnertime, talking about all the guys at Pencey that he hated their guts, and squeezing this big pimple on his chin. He didn't even use a handkerchief. I don't even think the bastard had a handkerchief, if you want to know the truth. I never saw him use one, anyway.

But what I mean is, lots of time you don't know what interests you most till you start talking about something that doesn't interest you most.

Me, myself and I.

I'm the one flunking out of this goddam place, and you're asking me to write you a goddam composition.

Duyguluymuş. Bittim. Bu Morrow denen herif ancak bir klozet kapağı kadar duygulu olabilirdi.

It ends up with everybody at this long dinner table laughing their asses off because the great Dane comes in with a bunch of puppies. Everybody thought it was a male , I suppose, or some goddam thing. All I can say is, don't see it if you don't want to puke all over yourself.

Ciertas cosas deberían seguir siendo como son. Deberías poder meterlas en una de esas vitrinas de cristal y dejarlas en paz. Sé que es imposible, pero de todos modos es una pena".

Our foyer has a funny smell that doesn't smell like anyplace else. I don't know what the hell it is. It isn't cauliflower and it isn't perfume—I don't know what the hell it is—but you always know you're home.

Espero que cuando me muera alguien tenga sentido común suficiente como para tirarme al río o algo así. Cualquier cosa menos meterme en un maldito cementerio. Eso de que venga la gente los domingos a ponerte ramos de flores en el estómago y todo ese rollo. ¿Quién quiere flores cuando ya se ha muerto? Nadie.

Ето например ние си държахме ръцете непрекъснато. Разбира се, това не е много нещо, но с нея е страхотно да си държиш ръцете. Повечето момичета, като им уловиш ръката, държат я като умряла в твоята или пък мислят, че трябва да си мърдат ръката, като че ли се боят да не се отегчиш или нещо подобно. А с Джейн не беше така. Ще влезем в някое кино при нещо подобно и веднага ще си хванем ръцете и няма да се пуснем, докато не свърши филмът. И то без да сменяме положението или да мислим, че правим кой знае какво. С Джейн дори не ме беше грижа дали ръката ми е изпотена или не. Само знаех, че съм щастлив. Истински щастлив.

Если девушка приходит на свидание красивая — кто будет расстраиваться, что она опоздала? Никто!