You Would Have To Be Half-mad To

My Hand Moves Because Certain Forces--electric, Magnetic, Or Whatever 'nerve-force' May Prove To Be--are Impressed On It By My Brain. This Nerve-force, Stored In The Brain, Would Probably Be Traceable, If Science Were Complete, To Chemical Forces Supplied To The Brain By The Blood, And Ultimately Derived From The Food I Eat And The Air I Breathe.

If You’ll Believe In Me, I’ll Believe In You.

I'm Getting Rather Hoarse, I Fear, After So Much Reciting: So, If You Don't Object, My Dear, We'll Try A Glass Of Bitter Beer - I Think It Looks Inviting.

Lastly, She Pictured To Herself How This Same Little Sister Of Hers Would, In The After-time, Be Herself A Grown Woman; And How She Would Keep, Through All Her Riper Years, The Simple And Loving Heart Of Her Childhood: And How She Would Gather About Her Other Little Children, And Make Their Eyes Bright And Eager With Many A Strange Tale, Perhaps Even With The Dream Of Wonderland Of Long Ago: And How She Would Feel With All Their Simple Sorrows, And Find A Pleasure In All Their Simple Joys, Remembering Her Own Child-life, And The Happy Summer Days.

Which Way You Ought To Go Depends On Where You Want To Get To.