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

Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.

Hey, Mr. Cunningham. How's your entailment gettin' along?

Maycomb was a tired old town, even in 1932 when I first knew it. Somehow, it was hotter then. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon after their three o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frosting from sweating and sweet talcum. The day was twenty-four hours long, but it seemed longer. There's no hurry, for there's nowhere to go and nothing to buy... and no money to buy it with.

It's not time to worry yet

Let the dead bury the dead.

When you're at the top, there's only one way to go.