No matter what anybody says to you, don’t you let ’em get your goat. Try fighting with your head for a change . . . it’s a good one, even if it does resist learning. Atticus, are we going to win it? No, honey. Then, why— Simply because we were licked a hundred years before we started is no reason for us not to try to win, Atticus said. You
unfathomable to the most experienced prophets in Maycomb County, autumn turned to winter that year. We had two weeks of the coldest weather since 1885, Atticus said. Mr. Avery said it was written on the Rosetta Stone that when children disobeyed their parents, smoked cigarettes and made war on each other, the seasons would change: Jem and I were burdened with the guilt of contributing to the aberrations of nature, thereby causing unhappiness to our neighbors and discomfort to ourselves.
quería que vieses lo que es la verdadera bravura, en vez de hacerte la idea de que la bravura la encarna un hombre con un arma en la mano. Uno es valiente cuando, sabiendo que ha perdido ya antes de empezar, empieza a pesar de todo y sigue hasta el final pase lo que pase. Uno vence raras veces, pero alguna vez vence
A medida que crezcas, verás a los blancos estafando a los negros, todos los días de tu vida, pero te diré una cosa, y no la olvides: siempre que un hombre blanco abusa de un negro, no importa quién sea, ni cuán rico sea, ni cuán distinguida haya sido la familia de que procede, ese hombre blanco es basura.
Không cần thiết phải nói mọi điều mình biết. Như thế không đúng kiểu quý cô.Thứ hai, người ta không thích có ai đó xung quanh biết nhiều hơn họ. Nó làm cho học bực thêm. Cô sẽ không làm thay đổi được bất kỳ ai trong số họ bằng cách nói đúng, tự họ phải cảm thấy muốn học hỏi, và khi họ không muốn học, thi cô chẳng có thể làm gì ngoài việc im miệng hoặc nói bằng thứ ngôn ngữ của họ.
. . . you’ve got to do something about her, Aunty was saying. You’ve let things go on too long, Atticus, too long. I don’t see any harm in letting her go out there. Cal’d look after her there as well as she does here. Who was the her they were talking about? My heart sank: me. I felt the starched walls of a pink cotton penitentiary closing in on me, and for the second time in my life I thought of running away. Immediately. Atticus,
What’s a Hot Steam? asked Dill. Haven’t you ever walked along a lonesome road at night and passed by a hot place? Jem asked Dill. A Hot Steam’s somebody who can’t get to heaven, just wallows around on lonesome roads an‘ if you walk through him, when you die you’ll be one too, an’ you’ll go around at night suckin‘ people’s breath— How can you keep from passing through one? You can’t, said Jem. Sometimes they stretch all the way across the road, but if you hafta go through one you say, ‘Angel-bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don’t suck my breath.’ That keeps ‘em from wrapping around you—