Carolina beach music,' Dupree said, coming up on the porch. 'The holiest sound on earth.

There was another thing I had forgotten about the South: It was the one place on earth where an unsuspecting person could get killed by kindness.

Southerners have mastered picking, choosing, and rationalizing religious texts to fit their social agenda better than their own mother’s fried chicken recipe.

It is critical that both North and South work collectively for facing the online challenges in defeating the criminals but we also need to ensure that the internet remains a platform for freedom of expression and uncensored information otherwise, it will have a negative impact on social economic development.

Though Anne was born in Alabama and schooled in Mississippi, she had traveled North, and, like many Southerners, gained a theoretical understanding of the concept of cold. But the mind is an overprotective parent. What it doesn't care for, it hides. Like many inhabiting the subtropics, Anne had repressed the reality of subzero mercury.

The women of the South have brought into American literature a unique mixture of domesticity and grotesquerie.

It is not enough for the Negroes to declare that color-prejudice is the sole cause of their social condition, nor for the white South to reply that their social condition is the main cause of prejudice. They both act as reciprocal cause and effect, and a change in neither alone will bring the desired effect. Both must change, or neither can improve to any great extent.'(p.88)....'Only by a union of intelligence and sympathy across the color-line in this critical period of the Republic shall justice and right triumph,.

Maycomb was a tired old town, even in 1932 when I first knew it. Somehow, it was hotter then. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon after their three o'clock naps. And by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frosting from sweating and sweet talcum. The day was twenty-four hours long, but it seemed longer. There's no hurry, for there's nowhere to go and nothing to buy...And no money to buy it with.

Could you just imagine? If every suicide rose--think of Faulkner's Quentin Compson as a vampire. I don't hate the South I don't I don't. She wondered how they'd have worked it out in Cambridge when Quentin threw himself off the Andersen bridge into the Charles amid the odor of the honeysuckle, not the beer, sweat, rum, and tainted magnolias of this city, precariously beneath the level of the water. The Compson blood had thinned out; at least this way, he's restore it after a fashion.

He speaks in a way that leaves no room for argument, on the edge of condescension and caring. It's a trick all men of the South have to learn before they're accepted as one of the good ol' boys.