A Man Can Condemn His Enemies, But

Any Writer Worth His Salt Writes To Please Himself...it's A Self-exploratory Operation That Is Endless. An Exorcism Of Not Necessarily His Demon, But Of His Divine Discontent.

Nothin’s Real Scary Except In Books.

Atticus Had Said It Was The Polite Thing To Talk To People About What They Were Interested In, Not About What You Were Interested In.

We Said Good-bye, And Dill Went Inside The House. He Evidently Remembered He Was Engaged To Me, For He Ran Back Out And Kissed Me Swiftly In Front Of Jem. "yawl Write, Hear?" He Bawled After Us.

You Can Choose Your Friends But You Sho' Can't Choose Your Family, An' They're Still Kin To You No Matter Whether You Acknowledge 'em Or Not, And It Makes You Look Right Silly When You Don't.