Characters Make Their Own Plot.

It's Quite A Thing, If You've Never Been In Or Known A Small Southern Town. The People Are Not Particularly Sophisticated, Naturally. They're Not Worldly Wise In Any Way. But They Tell You A Story Whenever They See You.

There Are Some Men In This World Who Are Born To Do Our Unpleasant Jobs For Us. Your Father's One Of Them.

Wordsworth Was Right When He Said That We Trail Clouds Of Glory As We Come Into The World, That We Are Born With A Divine Sense Of Perception. As We Grow Older, The World Closes In On Us, And We Gradually Lose The Freshness Of Viewpoint That We Had As Children. That Is Why I Think Children Should Get To Know This Country While They Are Young.

Next Morning I Awoke, Looked Out The Window And Nearly Died Of Fright. My Screams Brought Atticus From His Bathroom Half-shaven. "the World's Endin', Atticus! Please Do Something -!" I Dragged Him To The Window And Pointed. "no It's Not," He Said. "it's Snowing.

I Know Now What He Was Trying To Do, But Atticus Was Only A Man. It Takes A Woman To Do That Kind Of Work.