Again, As I Had Often Met It

Sometimes The Bible In The Hand Of One Man Is Worse Than A Whisky Bottle In The Hand Of Another... There Are Just Some Kind Of Men Who - Who're So Busy Worrying About The Next World They've Never Learned To Live In This One, And You Can Look Down The Street And See The Results.

When I Pointed To Him His Palms Slipped Slightly, Leaving Greasy Sweat Streaks On The Wall, And He Hooked His Thumbs In His Belt. A Strange Spasm Shook Him, As If He Heard Fingernails Scrape Slate, But As I Gazed At Him In Wonder The Tension Slowly Drained From His Face. His Lips Parted Into A Timid Smile, And Our Neighbor’s Image Blurred With My Sudden Tears. “hey, Boo,” I Said. “mr. Arthur, Honey,” Said Atticus, Gently Correcting Me. “jean Louise, This Is Mr. Arthur Radley. I Believe He Already Knows You.

Characters Make Their Own Plot. The Dimensions Of The Characters Determine The Action Of The Novel.

I've Been Writing As Long As I've Been Able To Form Words. I Never Wrote With An Idea Of Publishing Anything Until I Began Working On '[to Kill A] Mockingbird'. I Think That What Went Before May Have Been A Rather Subconscious Form Of Learning How To Write, Of Training Myself.

Try Fighting With Your Head For A Change... It's A Good One, Even If It Does Resist Learning.