Man, I love the way kids think. I love the way they talk, the way they dance, the way they concentrate so desperately to colour in the lines with their crayons. I love the way they think, the way they so innocently view things, and how full of wonder they are. Oh boy. And I love the way they somehow find a way to outsmart adults, and they know just the time to do it...
As Mr. Dolphus Raymond was an evil man I accepted his invitation reluctantly, but I followed Dill. Somehow, I didn't think Atticus would like it if we became friendly with Mr. Raymond, and I knew Aunt Alexandra woudn't. "Here," he said, offering Dill his paper sack with straws in it. "Tåke a good sip, it'll quieten you." Dill sucked on the straws, smiled, and pulled at length. "Hee hee," said Mr. Raymond, evidently taking delight in corrupting a child. "Dill, you watch out, now," I warned. Dill released the straws and grinned. "Scout, it's nothing but Coca-Cola." Mr. Raymond sat up against the tree trunk. He had been lying on the grass. "You little folks won't tell on me now, will you? It'd ruin my reputation if you did." "You mean all you drink in that sack's Coca-Cola? Just plain Coca-Cola?" "Yes ma'am," Mr. Raymond nodded. I liked his smell: it was of leather, horses, cottonseed. He wore the only English riding boots I had ever seen. "That's all I drink, most of the time." I had a feeling that I shouldn't be listening to this sinful man who had mixed children and didn't care who knew it, but he was fascinating. I had never encoutnered a being who deliberately perpetrated fraud against himself. But why had he entrusted us with his deepest secret? I asked him why. "Because you're children and you can understand it," he said.
[To Kill A Mockingbird - Harper Lee]
WORD OF THE DAY:
profligate \PROF-luh-guht; -gayt\, adjective:
1) Openly and shamelessly immoral; dissipated; dissolute. 2) Recklessly wasteful. 3) A profligate person.