Weeping For Anna Karenina And Being Terrified

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.

I'm Still Old-fashioned. I Love Dusty Old Books And Libraries.

You Know, Many Writers Really Don't Like To Write. I Think This The Chief Complaint Of So Many. They Hate To Write; They Do It Under The Compulsion That Makes Any Artist The Victim He Is, But They Loathe The Process Of Sitting Down Trying To Turn Thoughts Into Reasonable Sentences.

I Think There's Just One Kind Of Folks. Folks.

I Just Thought You'd Like To Know I Can Read. You Got Anything Needs Readin' I Can Do It.