I told her I loved her and all. It was a lie, of course, but the thing is, I meant it when I said it. I'm crazy. I swear to God I am.

I could happily lie down and die sometimes.

I submit that Zooey's face was close to being a wholly beautiful face. As such, it was of course vulnerable to the same variety of glibly undaunted and usually specious evaluations that any legitimate art object is. I think it just remains to be said that any one of a hundred everyday menaces — a car accident, a head cold, a lie before breakfast — could have disfigured or coarsened his bounteous good looks in a day or a second.

Franny was staring at the little blotch of sunshine with a special intensity, as if she were considering lying down in it.

If sentiment doesn't ultimately make fibbers of some people, their natural abominable memories almost certainly will.