Dill was off again. Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head. He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies.

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.

About your writing with you left hand, are you ambidextrous, Mr. Ewell?" "I most positively am not, I can use one hand good as the other. One hand good as the other.

Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Havin' a gun around's an invitation to somebody to shoot you.

Talking to Francis gave me the sensation of settling slowly to the bottom of the ocean.

I came to the conclusion that people were just peculiar, I withdrew from them, and never thought about them until I was forced to.