It's A Poor Sort Of Memory That

Rule Forty-two. All Persons More Than A Mile High To Leave The Court.

Will You Walk A Little Faster? Said A Whiting To A Snail, "there's A Porpoise Close Behind Us, And He's Treading On My Tail! See How Eagerly The Lobsters And The Turtles All Advance: They Are Waiting On The Shingle--will You Come And Join The Dance?

Either It Brings Tears To Their Eyes, Or Else -" "or Else What?" Said Alice, For The Knight Had Made A Sudden Pause. "or Else It Doesn't, You Know.

Where One Is Hopelessly Undecided As To What To Say, There (as Confucius Would Have Said, If They Had Given Him The Opportunity) Silence Is Golden.

Who Can Tell Whether The Parallelogram, Which In Our Ignorance We Have Defined And Drawn, And The Whole Of Whose Properties We Profess To Know, May Not Be All The While Panting For Exterior Angles, Sympathetic With The Interior, Or Sullenly Repining At The Fact That It Cannot Be Inscribed In A Circle?