You Can Pet Him, Mr. Arthur. He's

...but Before I Can Live With Other Folks I've Got To Live With Myself.

That Boy Is Your Company. And If He Wants To Eat Up That Tablecloth, You Let Him, You Hear?

Now, 75 Years Later In An Abundant Society Where People Have Laptops, Cell Phones, Ipods, And Minds Like Empty Rooms, I Still Plod Along With Books. Instant Information Is Not For Me. I Prefer To Search Library Stacks Because When I Work To Learn Something, I Remember It. And, Oprah, Can You Imagine Curling Up In Bed To Read A Computer? Weeping For Anna Karenina And Being Terrified By Hannibal Lecter, Entering The Heart Of Darkness With Mistah Kurtz, Having Holden Caulfield Ring You Up — Some Things Should Happen On Soft Pages, Not Cold Metal.

Dill Said Striking A Match Under A Turtle Was Hateful. “how Do You Know A Match Don't Hurt Him?” “turtles Can't Feel, Stupid,” Said Jem. “where You Ever A Turtle, Huh?

Dill Was Off Again. Beautiful Things Floated Around In His Dreamy Head. He Could Read Two Books To My One, But He Preferred The Magic Of His Own Inventions. He Could Add And Subtract Faster Than Lightning, But He Preferred His Own Twilight World, A World Where Babies Slept, Waiting To Be Gathered Like Morning Lilies.