" I simply happen to find Eastern philosophy more satisfactory than Western. Since you ask."

"You do? Wuddaya mean "philosophy"? Ya mean sex and all? You mean it's better in China? That what you mean?"

Haha. Fucking brilliant.

"In the first place, I certainly don't enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery. Surrounded by dead guys and tombstones and all. It wasn't too bad when the sun was out, but twice-twice- we were there when it started to rain. It was awful It rained on his lousy tombstone, and it rained on the grass on his stomach. It rained all over the place. All the visitors visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars. That's what nearly drove me crazy. All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all and then go someplace nice for dinner-everybody except Allie. I couldn't stand it. I know it's only his body and all that's in the cemetery, and his soul's in Heaven and all that crap, but I couldn't stand it anyway. I just wish he wasn't there. You didn't know him. If you'd known him, you'd know what I mean. It's not too bad when the sun's out, but the son only comes out when it feels like coming out."

One of the most beautifully depressing passages in the book. It just really gets to the heart of longing, of anger, of guilt; it's so so sad. Except the language is so honest, it't not affected, completely artless, completely human. Of course, by commenting on it like that, I completely ruined it.

" You know that song "If a body catch a body coming through the rye"? I'd like-"

"It's if a body meet a body coming through the rye!" old Phoebe said. "It's a poem. By Robert Burns."

"I know it's a poem by Robert Burns."

She was right, though. It is "If a body meet a body coming through the rye." I didn't know it then, though.

" I thought it was "If a body catch a body, " I said. " Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around-nobody big, I mean- except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch oeverybody if they start to go over the cliff-I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the cather in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy"

In a sense, he wanted to play God in a godless world. Except he was much better than that. He was much more humble than that. All he wanted was to save things. Save beautiful, honest things, from being ruined. From insincerity and pretense, he wanted to catch them and keep them in a pure open sunny place. Little kids killed him. He wanted to be the catcher in the rye.

J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in The Rye.