This time we aren't fighting the Yankees, we're fighting our friends. But remember this, no matter how bitter things get, they're still our friends and this is still our home.

Whatever she says to you, it’s your job not to let her make you mad.

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.

Any writer worth his salt writes to please himself.

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

Jem gave a reasonable description of Boo: Boo was about six-and-a-half feet tall, judging from his tracks; he dined on raw squirrels and any cats he could catch, that's why his hands were bloodstained - if you ate animal raw, you could never wash the blood off. There was a long jagged scar that ran across his face; what teeth he had were yellow and rotten; his eyes popped, and he drooled most of the time.

With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable.