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.
The thing is, most of the time when you're coming pretty close to doing it with a girl – a girl that isn't a prostitute or anything, I mean – she keeps telling you to stop. The trouble with me is, I stop. Most guys don't. I can't help it. You never know whether they really want you to stop, or whether they're just scared as hell, or whether they're just telling you to stop so that if you do go through with it, the blame'll be on you not them. Anyway, I keep stopping. The trouble is, I get to feeling sorry for them. I mean most girls are so dumb and all. After you neck them for a while, you can really watch them losing their brains. You take a girl when she really gets passionate, she just hasn't any brains. I don't know. They tell me to stop, so I stop. I always wish I hadn't, after I take them home, but I keep doing it anyway.
They advertise in about a thousand magazines, always showing some hot-shot guy on a horse jumping over a fence. Like as if all you ever did at Pencey was play polo all the time. I never even once saw a horse anywhere near the place. And underneath the guy on the horse's picture, it always says: "Since 1888 we have been molding boys into splendid, clear-thinking young men." Strictly for the birds. They don't do any damn more molding at Pencey than they do at any other school. And I didn't know anybody there that was splendid and clear-thinking and all. Maybe two guys. If that many. And they probably came to Pencey that way.
O birisi birisiyle çavdar tarlasında karşılaşır şeklinde dedi. Biliyorum bu Robert Burns'un şiiri.Evet haklıydı.O "Birisi birisiyle çavdar tarlasında karşılaşırsa". Bilmiyordum. Ben onu birisi birisini çavdar tarlasında yakalarsa zannediyordum, dedim. Her neyse, gözümün önüne bu büyük çavdar tarlasında oynayan küçük çocukları getiriyorum.Binlerce küçük çocuk ve başka hiçkimse yok -büyükleri kastediyorum- benim dışımda.Çılgın bir uçurumun başında oturuyorum. Ne yapmalıyım, bir yerlerden oraya nereye koştuklarının farkında olmadan, uçurumdan atlayacaklarından habersiz gelen çocukları yakalamalıyım. Bütün gün bunu yapmak isterdim. Ben kesinlikle sadece çavdar tarlasında bir yakalayıcı olmak isterdim.Biliyorum bu gerçekten çılgınca ama gerçekten benimseyebildiğim tek fikir bu.Biliyorum bu delice.
One other thing I just thought of. One time, in this movie, Jane did something that just about knocked me out. The newsreel was on or something, and all of a sudden I felt this hand on the back of my neck, and it was Jane's. It was a funny thing to do. I mean she was quite young and all, and most girls if you see them putting their hand on the back of somebody's neck, they're around twenty-five or thirty and usually they're doing it to their husband or their little kid--I do it to my kid sister Phoebe once in a while, for instance. But if a girl's quite young and all and she does it, it's so pretty it just about kills you.
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They're nice and all - I'm not saying that - but they're also touchy as hell. Besides, I'm not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or anything.
في اللحظة التي دخلت فيها الحجرة آسفت لمجيئي. كان العجوز يقرأ مجلة (أتلانتك) الشهرية، كان هناك أدوية في كل مكان في الحجرة، وكان لكل شيء رائحة قطرة (فكس) للأنف. أشعرني ذلك بالضيق. وأنا لست مغرما بمشاهدة المرضى. وزاد ضيقي أن سبنسر العجوز كان يرتدي روب الاستحمام الكئيب الأجرب الذي أرجح أنه يرتديه منذ ساعة مولده. وأنا لا أحب أن أشاهد الكبار في السن وهم يرتدون بيجامة أو روب حمام. فمن ورائها تبدو صدورهم العجوزة المجوفة وسيقانهم، تلك السيقان العجوزة التي نراها على الشواطىء وغيرها من الأماكن فتبدو بيضاء جدا وخالية من الشعر
This fall I think you're riding for - it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. 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. Or they thought their own environment couldn't supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started.
Többek között rájössz majd, hogy nem te vagy az első, akit megzavar, megrémít és undorral tölt el az emberek viselkedése. Semmi esetre sem vagy egyedül a listán, ez izgalmas és serkentő felismerés lesz. Nagyon, nagyon sok ember volt már ilyen erkölcsi és lelki válságban, mint te most. Szerencsére volt köztük, aki feljegyezte az akkori problémáit. Tanulsz majd belőlük, ha akarsz. Mint ahogy egyszer, ha valamit már felmutattál életedben, valaki más tanul majd tőled.
تذكر أنني قلت لك أنه كان 'لأكلي' بعض العادات الشخصية القذرة؟ وكذلك ستراد ليتر وإن كان ذلك بشكل مختلف وعلى نحو غير ظاهر. فمظهره لا غبار عليه ولكن كن عليك أن ترى موسى الحلاقة الذي يحلق به ذقنه، فقد كان صدئاً وملوثاً برغاوي الصابون الجافة والشعر وغير ذلك، لم ينظفه قط. كان يبدو دائماً حسن المظهر عندما ينتهي من ارتداء ملابسه، غير أنه كان له عاداته القذرة غير الظاهرة، تستطيع أن تكشفها إذا عرفته أنت كما أعرفه أنا. والسبب الذي يجعله حسن المظهر عندما ينتهي من ارتداء ملابسه إنه كان يعشق ذاته. كان يعتقد أنه أوسم فتى في الجزء الغربي من الكرة الأرضية. كان وسيما جدا، أعترف بهذا، ولكن وسامته كانت من ذلك النوع الذي يجعل أبويك إن رأيا صورته في كتاب المدرسة السنوي يتساءلان "من ذلك الفتى"؟ كانت وسامته من هذا النوع.
A lot of people, especially this one psychoanalyst guy they have here, keeps asking me if I'm going apply myself when I go back to school next September. It's such a stupid question, in my opinion. I mean how do you know what you're going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don't. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it's a stupid question.
Azt kérdezik, igyekszem-e beilleszkedni az ottani rendbe, ha jövő szeptemberben visszamegyek az iskolába. Ez olyan hülye kérdés, szerintem. Mert honnan tudná az ember, mit fog csinálni, amíg meg nem csinálta? A válasz: sehonnan. Én azt hiszem, igyekszem majd, de honnan tudjam? Esküszöm, hülye kérdés.
Но вы бы слышали, что вытворяла толпа, когда он кончил. Вас бы, наверно, стошнило. С ума посходили. Совершенно как те идиоты , которые гогочут, как гиены, в самых несмешных местах. Клянусь богом, если б я играл на рояле или на сцене и нравился этим болванам, я бы считал это личным оскорблением. На черта мне их аплодисменты? Они всегда не тому хлопают, чему надо. Если бы я был пианистом, я бы заперся в кладовке и там играл.