Where Are Your Pants, Son?

The Book To Read Is Not The One Which Thinks For You, But The One Which Makes You Think. No Book In The World Equals The Bible For That.

Ladies Pick Funny Things To Be Proud Of.

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.

Calpurnia Evidently Remembered A Rainy Sunday When We Were Both Fatherless And Teacherless. Let To Its Own Devices, The Class Tied Eunice Ann Simpson To A Chair And Placed Her In The Furnace Room. We Forgot Her, Trooped Upstairs To Church, And Were Listening Quietly To The Sermon When A Dreadful Banging Issued From The Radiator Pipes, Persisting Until Someone Investigated And Brought Forth Eunice Ann Saying She Didn't Want To Play Shadrach Any More - Jem Finch Said She Wouldn't Get Burnt If She Had Enough Faith, But It Was Hot Down There.

Dill?" Mm?" Why Do You Reckon Boo Radleys Never Run Off?" Dill Sighed A Long Sigh And Turned Away From Me. Maybe He Doesn't Have Anywhere To Run Off To