You Can Pet Him, Mr.

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

When A Man Spends His Relief Checks On Green Whiskey His Children Have A Way Of Crying From Hunger Pains.

Any Writer Worth His Salt Writes To Please Himself...it's A Self-exploratory Operation That Is Endless. An Exorcism Of Not Necessarily His Demon, But Of His Divine Discontent.

I'm No Idealist To Believe Firmly In The Integrity Of Our Courts And In The Jury System -- That Is No Ideal To Me, It Is A Living, Working Reality. Gentlemen, A Court Is No Better Than Each Man Of You Sitting Before Me On This Jury. A Court Is Only As Sound As Its Jury, And A Jury Is Only As Sound As The Men Who Make It Up.

Maycomb Was A Tired Old Town, Even In 1932 When I First Knew It. Somehow, It Was Hotter Then. Men's Stiff Collars Wilted By Nine In The Morning. Ladies Bathed Before Noon After Their Three O'clock Naps, And By Nightfall Were Like Soft Teacakes With Frosting From Sweating And Sweet Talcum. The Day Was Twenty-four Hours Long, But It Seemed Longer. There's No Hurry, For There's Nowhere To Go And Nothing To Buy... And No Money To Buy It With.