*"You know what I'd like to be? I mean if I had my goddam choice?"
"What? Stop _swear_ing."
"You know that song 'If a body catch a body comin' 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 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'd 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. I know it's crazy."
-Phoebe and Holden Caulfield, in J.D. Salinger's _The Catcher In
The Rye_, 1945
Chapter 22