“When I go house hunting, I use a rather large gun. You should see me fish for the best tasting Starbucks coffee. Oh, and can I borrow your plunger?”

“I drink coffee sometimes, but Starbucks’ coffee tastes like burnt ass,” I say.“Actually, it tastes nothing like burnt ass, Anna.”“And how would you know what burnt ass tastes like?”He laughs. “That’s for me to know…and you to find out.”I’m not sure I want to find out, but whatever.”

“My couch is coffee-colored. I can thank Starbucks and clumsiness for that.”

“There are men with guns up there. When they see me, they will kill me, if they can," Itell my father quietly. I search his eyes. "Should I let them?"He stares at me for a few seconds."Go," he says, "and God help you.”

“I remember when my daddy gave me that gun. He told me that I should never point it at anything in the house; and that he'd rather I'd shoot at tin cans in the backyard. But he said that sooner or later he supposed the temptation to go after birds would be too much, and that I could shoot all the blue jays I wanted - if I could hit 'em; but to remember it was a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

“If you forget your manners, you can always borrow mine. I won't be using them.”