(Source: sarumanka)
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This is for all J.D Salinger fans, addicts, devotees et al.
For the people whose lives were changed by Holden.
For the people who intonate words to sound like Franny.
For true-life recluses.
No haters, naysayers,
and especially no goddamn phonies.
For the people whose lives were changed by Holden.
For the people who intonate words to sound like Franny.
For true-life recluses.
No haters, naysayers,
and especially no goddamn phonies.
Thursday, January 19
Saturday, January 7
“ …all legitimate religious study must lead to unlearning the differences, the illusory difference, between boys and girls, animals and stones, day and night, heat and cold.
— J.D. Salinger - Franny and Zooey (via fragmentedknowledge)
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Monday, December 26
“ While I was walking, I passed these two guys that were unloading this big Christmas tree off a truck. One guy kept saying to the other guy, “Hold the sonuvabitch up. Hold it up for Chrissake!” It certainly was a gorgeous way to talk about a Christmas tree.
— Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye
24 notes
Sunday, October 16
“The color of his pallor, however, was a curiously basic white - unmixed, that is, with the greens and yellows of guilt or abject contrition. It was very like the standard bloodlessness in the face of a small boy who loves animals to distraction, all animals, and who has just seen his favourite, bunny-loving sister’s expression as she opened the box containing his birthday present to her - a freshly caught young cobra, with a red ribbon tied in an awkward bow around its neck.”
― J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey
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Thursday, October 13
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Saturday, October 8
“ Somewhat overly legibly, I wrote on a sheet of paper, “We’re held up indefinitely by the parade. We’re going to find a phone and have a cold drink somewhere. Will you join us?” I folded the paper once, then handed it to the Matron of Honor, who opened it, read it, and handed it to the tiny old man. He read it, grinning, and then looked at me and wagged his head up and down several times vehemently. I thought for an instant that this was the full and perfectly eloquent extent of his reply, but he suddenly motioned to me with his hand, and I gathered that he wanted me to pass him my pad and pencil. I did so—without looking over at the Matron of Honor, from whom great waves of impatience were rising. The old man adjusted the pad and pencil on his lap with greatest care, then sat for a moment, pencil poised, in obvious concentration, his grin diminished only a very trifle. Then the pencil began, very unsteadily, to move. An “i” was dotted. And then both pad and pencil were returned personally to me, with a marvellously cordial extra added wag of the head. He had written in letters that had not quite jelled yet, the single word “Delighted.” The Matron of Honor, reading over my shoulder, gave a sound faintly like a snort, but I quickly looked over at the great writer and tried to show by my expression that all of us in the car knew a poem when we saw one, and were grateful.
— Jerome David Salinger. “Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters”. 1955.
(Source: ostrichridingcowboy)
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Thursday, September 29
Wednesday, September 28
Posts that have made me click the 
button
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Tracked tags of a generation of the Glass family. Most of them rarely yield anything, but I live in hope.
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As one limping man to another, old Zooey, let’s be courteous and kind to each other.
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I can’t even blame boredom for this. Just my own lameness. Yaaaayyyyy
