Muriel’s Mother Quotes in A Perfect Day for Bananafish
“[…] He calls me Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948,” the girl said, and giggled.
“It isn’t funny, Muriel. It isn’t funny at all. It’s horrible. It’s sad, actually. When I think how—”
“Mother,” the girl interrupted, “listen to me. You remember that book he sent me from Germany? You know—those German poems. What’d I do with it? I’ve been racking my—”
“You have it.”
“Are you sure?” said the girl.
“Certainly. That is, I have it. It’s in Freddy’s room. You left it here […] —Why? Does he want it?”
“[…] He wanted to know if it’d read it.”
“It was in German!”
“[…] He said that the poems happen to be written by the only great poet of the century. He said I should’ve bought a translation or something. Or learned the language, if you please.”
“[…] he said it was a perfect crime the Army released him from the hospital—my word of honor. He very definitely told your father there’s a chance—a very great chance, he said—that Seymour may completely lose control of himself. My word of honor.”
“[…] he asked me if Seymour’s been sick or something, So I said—”
“Why’d he ask that?”
“I don’t know, Mother. I guess because he’s so pale and all,” said the girl. “Anyway, […] His wife was horrible. You remember that awful dinner dress you saw in Bonwit’s window? The one you said you’d have to have a tiny, tiny—”
“The green?”
“She had it on. And all hips. […]”
“What’d he say though? The doctor.”
“Oh. Well, nothing much, really. I mean we were in the bar and all. It was terribly noisy.”
Muriel’s Mother Quotes in A Perfect Day for Bananafish
“[…] He calls me Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948,” the girl said, and giggled.
“It isn’t funny, Muriel. It isn’t funny at all. It’s horrible. It’s sad, actually. When I think how—”
“Mother,” the girl interrupted, “listen to me. You remember that book he sent me from Germany? You know—those German poems. What’d I do with it? I’ve been racking my—”
“You have it.”
“Are you sure?” said the girl.
“Certainly. That is, I have it. It’s in Freddy’s room. You left it here […] —Why? Does he want it?”
“[…] He wanted to know if it’d read it.”
“It was in German!”
“[…] He said that the poems happen to be written by the only great poet of the century. He said I should’ve bought a translation or something. Or learned the language, if you please.”
“[…] he said it was a perfect crime the Army released him from the hospital—my word of honor. He very definitely told your father there’s a chance—a very great chance, he said—that Seymour may completely lose control of himself. My word of honor.”
“[…] he asked me if Seymour’s been sick or something, So I said—”
“Why’d he ask that?”
“I don’t know, Mother. I guess because he’s so pale and all,” said the girl. “Anyway, […] His wife was horrible. You remember that awful dinner dress you saw in Bonwit’s window? The one you said you’d have to have a tiny, tiny—”
“The green?”
“She had it on. And all hips. […]”
“What’d he say though? The doctor.”
“Oh. Well, nothing much, really. I mean we were in the bar and all. It was terribly noisy.”
