I've read that if an avalanche buries you and you're lying there underneath all that snow, you can't tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

I loved the way the burned-out flashcubes of the Kodak Instamatic marked a moment that had passed, one that would now be gone forever except for a picture.

There is really nothing so comforting to the beaten of spirit or the broken of skull than a good strong dose of 'Thy will be done.

Hey, Mr. Cunningham. How's your entailment gettin' along?

Written By Harper Lee

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