Silence, remembrance, and thanks to J.D. Salinger. You were one of the best, you wonderful reclusive genius, and I–among many, many others–are forever in your debt. In a statement from his family: “Salinger had remarked that he was in this world but not of it. His body is gone but the family hopes that he is still with those he loves, whether they are religious or historical figures, personal friends or fictional characters.”

May you find the peace you were looking for on the other side. And may you know the peace you brought to others by giving such truth to a character that, for a moment (or roughly 200 pages), we felt a little less alone. Thank you, Salinger. Thanks.

And some of my favorite quotes, by the master.

“The worst that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly.” ~De Daumier-Smith’s Blue Period

“It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.” ~The Catcher in the Rye*

“I’m tired of people who don’t have the courage to be an absolute nobody.” ~Franny and Zooey

And my absolute favorite, which I found on Beliefnet, of all places: “The most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy is a liquid.” ~J.D. Salinger.

*Disclaimer. To anyone who has the urge to comment: yes, I am aware that Holden Caufield was a pretty pathetic character. At the time I read Catcher in the Rye, I was a pretty pathetic character myself. Still am, on occasion.

The fall is particularly difficult. Autumn in New England is more than just leaves igniting into an inferno of red and gold hues. It’s the weight of the air; the length and tone of light on rolling, amber-colored fields; the smell of the earth shifting into its evening slumber.

The longing I’ve felt for home has been more than a need to stomp my boots into crunching piles of leaves: it’s been a true, physical need to feel the cold air on my face and see tendrils of breath coming from the nose and mouth.

Other New England transplants say the feeling will pass, but it will take years to let go of. It’s like letting go of a loved one; forcing the love you feel for them to slip out from between your finger tips.