wonderland

If you jotted down all of my ill-thought out comments, you could write a book entitled, Guide to Getting Punched in the Throat for Boneheads-Mad Hatter in "Death of the Mad Hatter" (Coming Soon!)

She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a came of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people.

When we were little," the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle - we used to call him Tortoise -""Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?" Alice asked."We called him Tortoise because he taught us," said the Mock Turtle angrily: "really you are very dull!

We talk and tease and bargain with the main dish. Maniacal laughter echoes in the marble halls, sweet to my ears.There__ movement at the banquet hall__ entrance. A child with my eyes tumbles in__ll wings and blue hair and giggling innocence. Holding his hand is Morpheus, wearing a ruby crown.The Red King. My king.The bubble bursts and takes the vision with it, leaving nothing but the sound of my gasp and wisps of gray smoke behind.__ou see,_ Ivory says, __nce Morpheus knew that one day you would belong to him and he to you, that you would share a child, he was no longer willing to die to save Wonderland. But he__ insecure about your feelings for him. He feared you would refuse to help. So he made a new plan, however flawed it was.

For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into half halves - to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a weekday. Do you think he cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer - and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the 'dim religious light' of some solemn cathedral?

Life just happens, Alice. What makes us special is how we react to it.

Your imagination is a wonderland full of realities.

Your imagination s a wonderland full of realities.

I thought about the screws and their happiness. Maybe they were glad to be free of the eggbeater, to be independent screws, to luxuriate on white trays. It did feel good to see them happy.

Kindness and a caring mind are two separate qualities. Kindness is manners. It is superficial custom, an acquired practice. Not so the mind. The mind is deeper, stronger, and, I believe, it is far more inconstant.

My power is everywhere propping up illusions, but I'm taking it back by letting go of them & just riding the stallion into wonderland. Let's see what you've got to say about the darkness in the mountains, I wonder if you know you can just turn it all to light. As we ride through the valley can you see the same water flowing that I do, or do dust clouds conceal it and block up your nose & throat? You're so thirsty for the end of the journey but I don't want you to miss the magic on the road.

The hours wear on, while the surreal atmosphere of the asylum does not wear off.

When one finds oneself in the kind of strange, unsettling circumstances as I presently find myself, it is only natural, after all, to have a few, unusual, vivid dreams.

Yes!" He says. "Fear is an excellent motivator. I find that it really brings out the true ingenuity of a creature.

What do you call yourself?" the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!"I wish I knew!" thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, "Nothing, just now.""Think again," it said: "that won't do."Alice thought, but nothing came of it. "Please, would you tell me what you call yourself?" she said timidly, "I think that might help a little.""I'll tell you, if you'll come a little further on," the Fawn said. "I can't remember here."So they walked on together through the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice's arms. "I'm a Fawn!" it cried out in a voice of delight. "And dear me, you're a human child!" A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.

Be what you would seem to be - or, if you'd like it put more simply - never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.

It is all new and all the same. A hundred years. A day. Ten thousand moons. For them, each day indeed is brand new, full of possibility, the unknown: a wonderland.

Blood, sweat, and tea, sister! That's what it takes to achieve all great and terrible things.