Boo Was Our Neighbor. He Gave Us

They've Done It Before And They'll Do It Again And When They Do It -- Seems That Only The Children Weep. Good Night.

Now That I Was Compelled To Think About It, Reading Was Something That Just Came To Me, As Learning To Fasten The Seat Of My Union Suit Without Looking Around, Or Achieving Two Bows From A Snarl Of Shoelaces.

She Seemed Glad To See Me When I Appeared In The Kitchen, And By Watching Her I Began To Think There Was Some Skill Involved In Being A Girl.

When I Pointed To Him His Palms Slipped Slightly, Leaving Greasy Sweat Streaks On The Wall, And He Hooked His Thumbs In His Belt. A Strange Spasm Shook Him, As If He Heard Fingernails Scrape Slate, But As I Gazed At Him In Wonder The Tension Slowly Drained From His Face. His Lips Parted Into A Timid Smile, And Our Neighbor’s Image Blurred With My Sudden Tears. “hey, Boo,” I Said. “mr. Arthur, Honey,” Said Atticus, Gently Correcting Me. “jean Louise, This Is Mr. Arthur Radley. I Believe He Already Knows You.

It's Not Necessary To Tell All You Know. It's Not Ladylike -- In The Second Place, Folks Don't Like To Have Someone Around Knowin' More Than They Do. It Aggravates Them. Your Not Gonna Change Any Of Them By Talkin' Right, They've Got To Want To Learn Themselves, And When They Don't Want To Learn There's Nothing You Can Do But Keep Your Mouth Shut Or Talk Their Language.