It was times like these when I thought my father, who hated guns and had never been to any wars, was the bravest man who ever lived.

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?

I just thought you'd like to know I can read. You got anything needs readin' I can do it.

Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

I could think of nothing else to say to her. In fact I could never think of anything to say to her, and I sat thinking of past painful conversations between us: How are you, Jean Louise? Fine, thank you ma'am, how are you? Very well, thank you; what have you been doing with yourself? Nothin'. Don't you do anything? Nome. Certainly you have friends? Yessum. Well what do you all do? Nothin'.

Way back about nineteen-twenty there was a Klan... The Ku Klux's gone... It'll never come back.

Long ago, in a burst of friendliness, Aunty and Uncle Jimmy produced a son named Henry.