And why the sea is boiling hot

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You can’t tell me what to do

(Source: shavingryansprivates)

  • Holden Caulfield: Hey I just met you
  • Holden Caulfield: and this is crazy
  • Holden Caulfield: but 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 everybody 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 do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.
  • Holden Caulfield: so don't even call me, you're a phony

The woods are never solitary—they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity.

L.M. Montgomery, Kilmeny of the Orchard (via seabois)

(via seabois)