We're All Mad Here.

I Don't See How He Can Ever Finish, If He Doesn't Begin.

It Is A Very Inconvenient Habit Of Kittens (alice Had Once Made The Remark) That Whatever You Say To Them, They Always Purr.

Twas Brillig, And The Slithy Toves Did Gyre And Gimble In The Wabe: All Mimsy Were The Borogoves, And The Mome Raths Outgrabe.

Come, My Child," I Said, Trying To Lead Her Away. "wish Good-bye To The Poor Hare, And Come And Look For Blackberries." "good-bye, Poor Hare!" Sylvie Obediently Repeated, Looking Over Her Shoulder At It As We Turned Away. And Then, All In A Moment, Her Self-command Gave Way. Pulling Her Hand Out Of Mine, She Ran Back To Where The Dead Hare Was Lying, And Flung Herself Down At Its Side In Such An Agony Of Grief As I Could Hardly Have Believed Possible In So Young A Child. "oh, My Darling, My Darling!" She Moaned, Over And Over Again. "and God Meant Your Life To Be So Beautiful!

Be Who You Are, Said The Duchess To Alice, Or, If You Would Like It Put More Simply, Never Try To Be What You Might Have Been Or Could Have Been Other Than What You Should Have Been.