Whatever She Says To You, It’s Your

I Could Think Of Nothing Else To Say To Her. In Fact I Could Never Think Of Anything To Say To Her, And I Sat Thinking Of Past Painful Conversations Between Us: How Are You, Jean Louise? Fine, Thank You Ma'am, How Are You? Very Well, Thank You; What Have You Been Doing With Yourself? Nothin'. Don't You Do Anything? Nome. Certainly You Have Friends? Yessum. Well What Do You All Do? Nothin'.

Nothing Is More Deadly Than A Deserted, Waiting Street.

Miss Jean Louise, Stand Up. Your Father's Passin'.

There's No Substitute For The Love Of Language, For The Beauty Of An English Sentence. There's No Substitute For Struggling, If A Struggle Is Needed, To Make An English Sentence As Beautiful As It Should Be.

I Suppose She Chose Me Because She Knew My Name; As I Read The Alphabet A Faint Line Appeared Between Her Eyebrows, And After Making Me Read Most Of My First Reader And The Stock-market Quotations From The Mobile Register Aloud, She Discovered That I Was Literate And Looked At Me With More Than Faint Distaste. Miss Caroline Told Me To Tell My Father Not To Teach Me Any More, It Would Interfere With My Reading.