DILL: Nirksilm, kas keegi on sulle kunagi hullupööra meeldinud? NIRKSILM: Ikka. DILL: Kes? NIRKSILM: Isa. Ja onu Jack. DILL: Nemad ei lähe arvesse. NIRKSILM: Miks nemad siis arvesse ei lähe? DILL: Nemad on perekond. Ma mõtlen niimoodi, et oleks ilus. NIRKSILM: Perekond ongi ilus. DILL: Aga ma mõtlen nii... nagu luuletus. NIRKSILM: Nagu luuletus? DILL: Jah, nagu luuletus. NIRKSILM: Kas sulle on keegi, nagu luuletus...? DILL: Jah. NIRKSILM: Kes? DILL: Sina. NIRKSILM: Mina? DILL: Jah. Sina. Sina oledki see luuletus, mida ma tean ja endamisi pomisen. Su varbad on riimid ja sõrmed on meeltes sorivad värsid... Su juuksed on kõdi mu silmanurgas ja sinu nina on üks soe mälestus mu õla vastas. Su silmad on kaks päikest vihmasel päeval. Ja su huuled on lodjad, millel armunud naeratused kiiguvad. Sinu põsed on õhetuse hullavad õed, kes punastades reedavad, et sa meeldid mulle just sellisena. Ja sinu pilk on õrn nagu härmatis ripsmeil. Vaevalt jõuad teda märgata, kui ta sulab ja pisarana põsele voolab. Ja sellest pisarast saab järv, kuhu võib uppuda. Aga see on õnnelik uppumine.
Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.
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 substract faster than lightning, but he preferred his own twilight world, a world where babies slept, waiting to be gathered like morning lilies. He was slowly talking himself to sleep and taking me with him, but in the quietness of his foggy island there rose the faded image of a gray house with sad brown doors. "Dill?" "Mm?" "Why do you reckon Boo Radley's never run off?" Dill sighed a long sigh and turned away from me. "Maybe he doesn't have anywhere to run off to..."