by Harper Lee
"Atticus...he was real nice..."
His hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, tucking it around me.
"Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them."
If there’s just one kind of folks, why can’t they get along with each other? If they’re all alike, why do they go out of they’re way to despise each other?

A jury never looks at a defendant it had convicted, and not one of them looked at Tom Robinson.

Gentlemen, a court is no better than each one of you sitting before me on this jury. A court is only as sound as its jury, and a jury is only as sound as the men who make it up.

And so a quiet, respectable, humble Negro man had the unmitigated temerity to ‘feel sorry’ for a white woman has to put his word against to white people’s.

I try to give ‘em a reason, you see. It helps folks if they can latch onto a reason. When I come into town, which is seldom, if I weave a little and drink out of this sack, folks can say Dolphus Raymond;s in the clutches of whickey--that’s why he won’t change his ways. He can’t help himself, that’s why he lives the way he does.

It’s not necessary to tell all you know. It’s not ladylike--int the second place, folks don’t like to have someone around knowin’ more than they do. It aggravates ‘em. You’re not gonna change any of them by talkin’ right, they’ve got to want to learn themselvers, and when they don’t want to learn there’s nothing you can do but keep your mouth shut or talk their language.

Enarmoured, upright, uncompromising, Aunt Alexandra was sitting in a rocking chair exactly as if she had sat there every day of her life.

You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view--
until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.

Miss Caroline seemed unaware that the ragged, denim-shirted and floursack-skirted first grade, most of whom had chopped cotton and fed hogs from the time they were able to walk, were immune to imaginative literature.