When A Man Spends His

They're Ugly, But Those Are The Facts Of Life.

The Remainder Of My Schooldays Were No More Auspicious Than The First. Indeed, They Were An Endless Project That Slowly Evolved Into A Unit, In Which Miles Of Construction Paper And Wax Crayon Were Expended By The State Of Alabama In Its Well-meaning But Fruitless Efforts To Teach Me Group Dynamics.

Where Are Your Pants, Son?

There Was Nowhere To Go, But I Turned To Go And Met Atticus's Vest Front. I Buried My Head In It And Listened To The Small Internal Noises That Went On Behind The Light Blue Cloth: His Watch Ticking, The Faint Crackle Of His Starched Shirt, The Soft Sound Of His Breathing. 'your Stomach's Growling,' I Said. 'i Know It,' He Said.

But Sometimes We Have To Make The Best Of Things, And The Way We Conduct Ourselves When The Chips Are Down.