Boo and The Radleys
·  The Radleys, welcome anywhere in town, kept to themselves, a predilection unforgivable in Maycomb. They did not go to Church, Maycomb’s principal recreation, but worshipped at home.”
·  Inside the house lived a malevolent phantom. People said he existed but Jem and I had never seen him…. When people’s azaleas froze in a cold snap, it was because he breathed on them. Any stealthy crimes committed in Maycomb were his work. …. A negro would not pass the Radley Place at night, he would cut across to the sidewalk opposite and whistle as he walked….. from the Radley chicken yard tall pecan trees shook their fruit into the school yard, but the nuts lay untouched by the children: Radley pecans would kill you. A baseball hit into the Radley yard was a lost ball and no questions asked.”
·  "A haint lives there..."
·  The doors of the Radley house were closed on weekdays as well as Sundays, and Mr Radley’s boy was not seen again for 15 years.
·  ”Nobody knew what form of intimidation Mr Radley used to keep Boo out of sight, but Jem figured that Mr Radley kept him chained to the bed most of the time. Atticus said no, it wasn’t that sort of thing, there were other ways of making people into ghosts.”
·  From the day Mr Radley took Arthur home, people said the house died.
·  Jem gave a reasonable description of Boo; Boo was six and a half feet tall, judging from his tracks; he dined on raw squirrels and any cats that he could catch. That’s why his hands were blood stained…. There was a long jagged scar that ran across his face, what teeth he had were yellow and rotten, his eyes popped and he drooled most of the time.”
·  “Why do you reckon Boo Radley’s never run off?” Dill sighed a long sigh and turned away from me. “Maybe he doesn’t have anywhere to run off to…” 159
·  (Jem) "Scout, I think I’m beginning to understand something. I think I’m beginning to understand why Boo Radley’s stayed shut up in the house all the time …. It’s because he wants to stay inside.” 251
·  The Radley Place had ceased to terrify me, but it was no less gloomy, no less chilly under its great oaks, and no less uninviting. …. I sometimes felt a twinge of remorse, when passing by the old place, at ever having taken part in what must have been sheer torment to Arthur Radley – what reasonable recluse wants children peeping through his shutters, delivering greetings on the end of a fishing pole, wandering in his collards at night? 267
·  He was still leaning against the wall. He had been leaning against the wall when I came into the room, his arms folded against his chest. As I pointed he brought his arms down and pressed the palms of his hands against the wall. They were white hands, sickly white hands that had never seen the sun, so white they stood out garishly against the dull cream wall in the dim light of Jem’s room. I looked from his hands to his sand-stained khaki pants; my eyes travelled up his thin frame to his torn shirt. His face was as white as his hands, but for a shadow on his jutting chin. His cheeks were thin to hollowness; his mouth was wide; there were shallow, almost delicate indentations at his temples, and his grey eyes were so colourless I thought he was blind. His hair was dead and thin, almost feathery on top of his head. As I gazed at him in wonder the tension slowly drained from his face. His lips parted in a timid smile, and our neighbour’s image blurred with my sudden tears. “Hey, Boo,” I said.
·  My small fantasy about him was alive again; he would be sitting on the porch … right pretty spell we’re having, isn’t it Mr Arthur? Yes, a right pretty spell. Feeling slightly unreal, I led him to the chair furthest from Atticus and Mr Tate. It was in deep shadow. Boo would feel more comfortable in the dark. 299
·  I never heard tell that it’s against the law for a citizen to do his utmost to prevent a crime from being committed, which is exactly what he did, but maybe you’ll say it’s my duty to tell the town all about it and not hush it up. Know what’d happen then? All the ladies in Maycomb, includin’ my wife’d be knocking on his door bringin’ angel food cakes. To my way of thinkin’, Mr Finch, taking the one man who’s done you and this town a great service and draggin’ him with his shy ways into the limelight – to me, that’s a sin. It’s a sin and I’m not about to have it on my head. If it was any other man it’d be different. But not this man, Mr Finch. 304
·  “Mr Tate was right.” (To not arrest or "out" Boo for the murder of Bob Ewell
Atticus disengaged himself and looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’d be sort of like shooting a mockingbird, wouldn’t it?” 304
·  When Boo Radley shuffled to his feet, light from the living room windows glistened on his forehead. Every move he made was uncertain, as if he were not sure his hands and feet could not make proper contact with the things he touched. He coughed his dreadful railing cough, and was so shaken he had to sit down again…
·  His hand came down lightly on Jem’s hair. I was beginning to learn his body English. His hand tightened on mine and he indicated that he wanted to leave. I led him to the front porch, where his uneasy steps halted. He was still holding my hand and he gave no sign of letting me go. “Will you take me home?” He almost whispered it, in the voice of a child afraid of the dark. 306
Scout
·  Now that I was compelled to think about it, reading was just something that just came to me, as learning to fasten the seat of my union suit without looking around, or achieving two bows from a snarl of shoelaces ..... until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing. 20
·  Francis looked at me carefully, concluded I had been sufficiently subdued, and crooned softly. "Nigger lover...." I split my knuckle to the bone on his front teeth. My left impaired, i sailed in with my right ...
·  What bothers me is that soon she and Jem will have to absorb some pretty ugly things soon. I’m not worried about Jem keeping his head, but Scout’s just as soon jump someone as look at him if her pride’s at stake …97
·  The school buzzed with talk about him defending Tom Robinson, none of which was complimentary. After my bout with Cecil Jacobs when I committed myself to a policy of cowardice, word got around that Scout Finch wouldn’t fight anymore, her daddy wouldn’t let her. This was not entirely correct: I wouldn’t fight publicly for Atticus, but the family was private ground. I would fight anyone from a third cousin upwards tooth and nail. 99
·  First of all,” he said,” If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along better with all kinds of folks. 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.”
·  Aunt Alexandra was fanatical on the subject of my attire. I could not hope to be a lady if I wore breeches: when I said I could do nothing in a dress, she said I wasn't supposed to be doing things that required pants. Aunt Alexandra's vision of my deportment involved playing with small stoves, tea sets, and wearing the Add-A-Pearl necklace she gave me when i was born; furthermore, I should be a ray of sunshine in my father's lonely life. I suggested that one could be a ray of sunshine in pants just as well, but Aunty said that one had to behave like a sunbeam, that I was born good but had grown progressively worse every year.
·  “Scout, don’t let aunty aggravate you.” … it seemed like only yesterday that he was telling me not to aggravate Aunty. “You know she’s not used to girls,” said Jem. “Leastways, not girls like you. she’s tryin’ to make you into a lady. Can’t you take up sewin’ or somethin’?” 249
·  “No, everybody’s gotta learn, nobody’s born knowin’. That Walter’s as smart as he can he, he just gets held back sometimes because he has to stay back and help his daddy. Nothin’s wrong with him. Naw, Jem, I think there’s just one kind of folks. Folks.” 250
·  Jem, it’s not right to persecute anybody, is it? I mean have mean thoughts about anybody, even, is it? …. Well, comin’ out of the courthouse that night Miss Gates was – she was goin’ down the steps in front of us, you musta not seen her – she was talkin’ with Miss Stephanie Crawford. I heard her say it’s time somebody taught ‘em a lesson, they were getting’ way above themselves, an’ the next thing they think they can do is marry us. Jem, how can you hate Hitler so bad an’ then turn around an’ be ugly about folks right at home?”
·  I was more at home in my father’s world. People like Mr Heck Tate did not trap you with innocent questions to make fun of you; even Jem was not highly critical unless you said something stupid. Ladies seemed to live in faint horror of men, seemed unwilling to approve wholeheartedly of them. But I liked them. There was something about them, no matter how much they cussed and drank and gambled and chewed; no matter how undelectable they were, there was something about them I instinctively liked – they weren’t – “Hypocrites, Mrs Perkins, born hypocrites,” Mrs Merriweather was saying ….
·  “Aunt Alexandra looked across the room at me and smiled. She looked at a tray of cookies on the table and nodded at them. I carefully picked up the tray and watched myself walk to Mrs Merriweather. With my best company manners, I asked her if she would have some. After all, if Aunty could be a lady at a time like this, so could I.” (p 262)
·  The Radley Place had ceased to terrify me, but it was no less gloomy, no less chilly under its great oaks, and no less uninviting. …. I sometimes felt a twinge of remorse, when passing by the old place, at ever having taken part in what must have been sheer torment to Arthur Radley – what reasonable recluse wants children peeping through his shutters, delivering greetings on the end of a fishing pole, wandering in his collards at night? 267
·  Neighbours bring food with death and flowers with sickness and little things in between. Boo was our neighbour. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives. But neighbours give in return. We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad. 307
Scout finally sees the world from Boo’s perspective:
·  Daylight … in my mind, the night faded. It was daytime and the neighborhood was busy. Miss Stephanie Crawford crossed the road to tell the latest to Miss Rachel. Miss Maudie bent over her azaleas. It was summertime, and two children scampered down the sidewalk towards a man approaching in the distance… A boy trudged down the sidewalk dragging a fishing pole behind him. A man stood waiting with his hands on his hips. Summertime, and his children played in the front yard with their friend, enacting a strange little drama of their own invention. It was fall, and his children fought on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Dubose’s. . . . Fall, and his children trotted to and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. They stopped at an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive. Winter, and his children shivered at the front gate, silhouetted against a blazing house. Winter, and a man walked into the street, dropped his glasses, and shot a dog. Summer, and he watched his children’s heart break. Autumn again, and Boo’s children needed him. Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough. 307
·  “Mr Tate was right.” Atticus disengaged himself and looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’d be sort of like shooting a mockingbird, wouldn’t it?” 304
Atticus
·  He liked Maycomb, he was Maycomb born and bred; he knew his people, they knew him, and because of Simon Finch's industry, Atticus was related by blood or marriage to nearly every family in the town.
·  Francis: “If Uncle Atticus lets you run around with stray dogs, that’s his own business, like Grandma says, so it ain’t your fault. I guess it ain’t your fault if Uncle Atticus is a nigger-lover besides, but I’m here to tell you that it certainly does mortify the rest of the family .. 92
·  I’d hoped to get through life without a case of this kind, but John Taylor pointed at me and said, “You’re it..” .. do you think I could face my children otherwise? You know what’s going to happen as well as I do, Jack, and I hope and pray I can get Jem and Scout through it without bitterness, and most of all, without catching Maycomb’s usual disease. Why reasonable people go stark raving mad when anything involving a negro comes up, is something that I don’t pretend to understand … I just hope that Jem and Scout come to me for their answers instead of listening to the town. 98
·  First of all,” he said,” If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along better with all kinds of folks. 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.”
·  Atticus was feeble: he was nearly fifty. When Jem and I asked him why he was so old, he said he got started late, which we felt reflected upon his abilities and manliness. He was much older than the parents of our school contemporaries .. 98
·  Our father didn’t do anything. He worked in an office, not in a drug-store. Atticus did not drive a dump-truck for the county, he was not the sheriff, he did not farm, work in a garage, or do anything that could possibly arouse the admiration of anybody. 99
·  I’d rather you shot at tin-cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can’t hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird. 99 (Miss Maudie) Your father’s right … mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, they don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird. 100