Why Is A Raven Like A Writing

There Are Certain Things--as, A Spider, A Ghost, The Income-tax, Gout, An Umbrella For Three-- That I Hate, But The Thing That I Hate The Most Is A Thing They Call The Sea.

Alice: "how Long Is Forever?" White Rabbit: "sometimes, Just One Second."

All In The Golden Afternoon Full Leisurely We Glide; For Both Our Oars, With Little Skill, By Little Arms Are Plied, While Little Hands Make Vain Pretence Our Wanderings To Guide.

If I Had A World Of My Own, Everything Would Be Nonsense. Nothing Would Be What It Is, Because Everything Would Be What It Isn't. And Contrariwise, What It Is, It Wouldn't Be. And What It Wouldn't Be It Would. You See?

May We Not Then Sometimes Define Insanity As An Inability To Distinguish Which Is The Waking And Which The Sleeping Life? We Often Dream Without The Least Suspicion Of Unreality: 'sleep Hath Its Own World', And It Is Often As Lifelike As The Other.