The catcher in the rye. J.D. Salinger.

"I wasn' t listening, though. I was thinking about some­thing else - something crazy -. 'You know what l' d like to be?' I said. 'You know what I'd Iike to be? I mean if l had my goddam choice?'
'What? Stop swearing.'
'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 tbe rye'. I didn't know it then, tbough.
'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 l' d do all day. l' 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.'

Old Phoebe didn't say anything for a long time. Then, when she said something, all she said was, 'Daddy' s going to kill you.'