There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you. That's never possible.
Where are your pants, son?
I didn't know how you were going to do it, but from now on I'll never worry about what'll become of you, son, you'll always have an idea.
Long ago, in a burst of friendliness, Aunty and Uncle Jimmy produced a son named Henry.
For the life of me, I did not understand how he[Atticus] could sit there in cold blood and read a newspaper when his only son stood an excellent chance of being murdered with a Confederate Army relic.
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