There was nowhere to go, but I turned to go and met Atticus's vest front. I buried my head in it and listened to the small internal noises that went on behind the light blue cloth: his watch ticking, the faint crackle of his starched shirt, the soft sound of his breathing. 'Your stomach's growling,' I said. 'I know it,' he said.

She was born in the Objective case.

Yeah, that's all," said Dill. "He'll probably come out after you when he sees you in the yard, then Scout'n' me'll jump on him and hold him down till we can tell him we ain't gonna hurt him.

Try fighting with your head for a change... it's a good one, even if it does resist learning.

You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view.

You can pet him, Mr. Arthur. He's asleep.

I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks.