She's In That State Of Mind That

I Don't Want To Take Up Literature In A Money-making Spirit, Or Be Very Anxious About Making Large Profits, But Selling It At A Loss Is Another Thing Altogether, And An Amusement I Cannot Well Afford.

And Here Alice Began To Get Rather Sleepy, And Went On Saying To Herself, In A Dreamy Sort Of Way, 'do Cats Eat Bats? Do Cats Eat Bats?' And Sometimes, 'do Bats Eat Cats?' For, You See, As She Couldn't Answer Either Question, It Didn't Much Matter Which Way She Put It.

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

When, As A Child, I First Opened My Eyes On A Sunday-morning, A Feeling Of Dismal Anicipation, Which Began At Least On The Friday,culminated. I Knew What Was Before Me, And My Wish, If Not My Word, Was "would God It Were Evening!" It Was No Day Of Rest, But A Day Of Texts, Of Catechisms (watts'), Of Tracts About Converted Swearers, Godly Charwomen, And Edifying Deaths Of Sinners Saved.... There Was But One Rosy Spot, In The Distance, All That Day: And That Was "bed-time," Which Never Could Come Too Early!

For, You See, So Many Out-of-the-way Things Had Happened Lately, That Alice Had Begun To Think That Very Few Things Indeed Were Really Impossible.