...for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
When Atticus came home to dinner he found me crouched down aiming across the street. "What are you shooting at?" "Miss Maudie's rear end."Atticus turned and saw my generous target bending over her bushes. He pushed his hat to the back of his head and crossed the street. "Maudie," he called, "I thought I'd better warn you. You're in considerable peril."Miss Maudie straightened up and looked toward me. She said,"Atticus, you are a devil from hell.