And As To Being In A Fright,

Epithets, Like Pepper, Give Zest To What You Write; And If You Strew Them Sparely, They Whet The Appetite: But If You Lay Them On Too Thick, You Spoil The Matter Quite!

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!

Speak In French When You Can't Think Of The English For A Thing. Turn Out Your Toes As You Walk. And Remember Who You Are!

Everything's Got A Moral, If Only You Can Find It.

Of Course It Is,’ Said The Duchess, Who Seemed Ready To Agree To Everything That Alice Said; ‘there’s A Large Mustard-mine Near Here. And The Moral Of That Is– “the More There Is Of Mine, The Less There Is Of Yours.