I Know Now What He Was Trying

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.

She Knew Full Well The Enormity Of Her Offense, But Because Her Desires Were Stronger Than The Code She Was Breaking, She Persisted In Breaking It.

You Know, Many Writers Really Don't Like To Write. I Think This The Chief Complaint Of So Many. They Hate To Write; They Do It Under The Compulsion That Makes Any Artist The Victim He Is, But They Loathe The Process Of Sitting Down Trying To Turn Thoughts Into Reasonable Sentences.

I Could Think Of Nothing Else To Say To Her. In Fact I Could Never Think Of Anything To Say To Her, And I Sat Thinking Of Past Painful Conversations Between Us: How Are You, Jean Louise? Fine, Thank You Ma'am, How Are You? Very Well, Thank You; What Have You Been Doing With Yourself? Nothin'. Don't You Do Anything? Nome. Certainly You Have Friends? Yessum. Well What Do You All Do? Nothin'.

Until I Feared I Would Lose It, I Never Loved To Read. One Does Not Love Breathing.