Let The Dead Bury The Dead.

Neighbors Bring Food With Death And Flowers With Sickness And Little Things In Between. Boo Was Our Neighbor. He Gave Us Two Soap Dolls, A Broken Watch And Chain, A Pair Of Good-luck Pennies, And Our Lives. But Neighbors Give In Return. We Never Put Back Into The Tree What We Took Out Of It: We Had Given Him Nothing, And It Made Me Sad.

As I Made My Way Home, I Thought Jem And I Would Get Grown But There Wasn't Much Else For Us To Learn, Except Possibly Algebra.

Prejudice, A Dirty Word, And Faith, A Clean One, Have Something In Common: They Both Begin Where Reason Ends.

The Book To Read Is Not The One Which Thinks For You, But The One Which Makes You Think. No Book In The World Equals The Bible For That.

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.