memento
'"She doesn't respect me. She doesn't even love me, for God's sake. Basically—in the last analysis—I don't love her any more, either. I don't know. I do and I don't. It varies. it fluctuates. Christ! Every time I get all set to put my foot down, we have dinner out, for some reason, and I meet her somewhere and she comes in with these goddam white gloves on or something. I don't know. Or I start thinking about the first time we drove up to New Haven for the Princeton game. We had a flat right after we got off the Parkway, and it was cold as hell, and she held the flashlight while I fixed the goddam thing—You know what I mean. I don't know. Or I start thinking about—Christ, it's embarrassing—I start thinking about this goddam poem I sent her when we first started goin' around together. 'Rose my color is and white, Pretty mouth and green my eyes.' Christ, it's embarrassing—it used to remind me of her. She doesn't have green eyes—she has eyes like goddam sea shells, for Chrissake—but it reminded me anyway...I don't know. What's the usea talking? I'm losing my mind. Hang up on me, why don't you? I mean it."'
- J.D. Salinger
Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes
(Nine Stories collection)
Page 125
He's not for everyone but i do adore Salinger and his stuttered ramblings.
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