Cecil Jacobs Is A Big Wet Hen!

A Mob's Always Made Up Of People, No Matter What. Mr. Cunningham Was Part Of A Mob Last Night, But He Was Still A Man. Every Mob In Every Little Southern Town Is Always Made Up Of People You Know--doesn't Say Much For Them, Does It?

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.

You Just Hold Your Head High And Keep Those Fists Down. No Matter What Anybody Says To You, Don't You Let 'em Get Your Goat. Try Fighting With Your Head For A Change...

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.

I Have Nothing But Gratitude For The People Who Made The Film. It Was A Most Unusual Experience. I'm No Judge, And The Only Film I've Ever Seen Made Was Mockingbird, But There Seemed To Be An Aura Of Good Feeling On The Set. I Went Out And Looked At Them Filming A Little Of It, And There Seemed To Be Such A General Kindness, Perhaps Even Respect, For The Material They Were Working With. I Was Delighted, Touched, Happy, And Exceedingly Grateful.