What I Tell You Three Times Is

All In The Golden Afternoon Full Leisurely We Glide; For Both Our Oars, With Little Skill, By Little Arms Are Plied, While Little Hands Make Vain Pretence Our Wanderings To Guide.

So Young A Child Ought To Know Which Way She's Going, Even If She Doesn't Know Her Own Name!

What A Strange World We Live In...said Alice To The Queen Of Hearts

Would You Tell Me, Please, Which Way I Ought To Go From Here?" "that Depends A Good Deal On Where You Want To Get To." "i Don't Much Care Where –" "then It Doesn't Matter Which Way You Go.

You Won't Make Yourself A Bit Realer By Crying.