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.
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.
Long ago, in a burst of friendliness, Aunty and Uncle Jimmy produced a son named Henry…
Where are your pants, son?
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.