#mocking

Dill was off again. Beautiful things floated around in his dreamy head. He could read two books to my one, but he preferred the magic of his own inventions. He could add and subtract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies. ↗

— Harper Lee

#to-kill-a-mockingbird #beauty

There's a boy who they call Pony! He's always acting gross and horny! He thinks he's got a lot down there, but he sure wears tiny underwear! ↗

— Cecily von Ziegesar

#humor

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. ↗

— Harper Lee

#humor #to-kill-a-mockingbird #humor

There's something else there as well, something entirely her own. An ability to look into the confusing mess of life and see things for what they are. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#life #mockingjay #prim #life

When he was nearly thirty-six, my brother Jem got his heart badly broken when his fourth marriage fell apart, mostly because his wife never could get used to Boo, who lived with them and creeped her out by making little wooden dolls of her and putting them in the hollow tree out front. ↗

— Silas House

#marriage

You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#mockingjay #peeta #smile

Peeta's awake already, sitting on the side of the bed, looking bewildered as the trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes, checks his pules. I'm disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke up, but he sees it now. His features registrer disbelief and something more intense that I can't quite place. Desire? Desperation? Surely both, for he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feets and moves towards me. I run to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. His hands are reaching for mine too, to caress my face, I think. My lips are forming his name when his fingers lock around my throat. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#katniss #meeting #mockingjay #peeta #suffocate

Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead." I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#katniss #mockingjay #prim #improvement

We need to be celebrating those who serve us rather than mocking them for the purpose of getting on TV and selling some books. ↗

— Jennifer M. Granholm

#celebrating #getting #mocking #need #purpose

No; we have been as usual asking the wrong question. It does not matter a hoot what the mockingbird on the chimney is singing. The real and proper question is: Why is it beautiful? ↗

— Bertrand Russell

#beautiful #been #chimney #does #hoot