I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it. - J. D. Salinger

"When I was all set to go, when I had my bags and all, I stood for a while next to the stairs and took a last look down the goddam corridor. I was sort of crying. I don't know why. I put my red hunting hat on, and turned the peak around to the back, the way I liked it, and then I yelled at the top of my goddam voice, "Sleep tight, ya morons!" I'll bet I woke up every bastard on the whole floor. Then I got the hell out. Some stupid guy had thrown peanut shells all over the stairs, and I damn near broke my crazy neck."

Women kill me. They really do. I don't mean I'm oversexed or anything like that — although I am quite sexy. I just like them, I mean. They're always leaving their goddam bags out in the middle of the aisle.

The true poet has no choice of material. The material plainly chooses him, not he it.