Life, What Is It But A Dream?

"well, It's No Use Your Talking About Waking Him," Said Tweedledum, "when You're Only One Of The Things In His Dream. You Know Very Well You're Not Real."

When You Are Describing, A Shape, Or Sound, Or Tint; Don't State The Matter Plainly, But Put It In A Hint; And Learn To Look At All Things, With A Sort Of Mental Squint.

It’s A Miserable Story!” Said Bruno. “it Begins Miserably, And It Ends Miserablier. I Think I Shall Cry. Sylvie, Please Lend Me Your Handkerchief.” “i Haven’t Got It With Me,” Sylvie Whispered. “then I Won’t Cry,” Said Bruno Manfully.

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?

It Is The Privilege Of True Genius, And Especially Genius Who Opens Up A New Path, To Make Great Mistakes With Impunity