Way Back About Nineteen-twenty There Was A

Again, As I Had Often Met It In My Own Church, I Was Confronted With The Impurity Of Women Doctrine That Seemed To Preoccupy All Clergymen.

Writing Is A Process Of Self-discipline You Must Learn Before You Can Call Yourself A Writer. There Are People Who Write, But I Think They're Quite Different From People Who Must Write.

Sometimes The Bible In The Hand Of One Man Is Worse Than A Whisky Bottle In The Hand Of Another... There Are Just Some Kind Of Men Who - Who're So Busy Worrying About The Next World They've Never Learned To Live In This One, And You Can Look Down The Street And See The Results.

Long Ago, In A Burst Of Friendliness, Aunty And Uncle Jimmy Produced A Son Named Henry.

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.