You Can't Be That Good; You Work

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson's Life In Space-time Colored His Liberated Life Of The Imagination.

You Are Old Father William,' The Young Man Said, 'and Your Hair Has Become Very White; And Yet You Incessantly Stand On Your Head-do You Think, At Your Age, It Is Right?

Twas Brillig, And The Slithy Toves Did Gyre And Gimble In The Wabe: All Mimsy Were The Borogoves, And The Mome Raths Outgrabe.

Cheshire Cat: If I Were Looking For A White Rabbit, I'd Ask The Mad Hatter. Alice: The Mad Hatter? Oh, No No No... Cheshire Cat: Or, You Could Ask The March Hare, In That Direction. Alice: Oh, Thank You. I Think I'll See Him... Cheshire Cat: Of Course, He's Mad, Too. Alice: But I Don't Want To Go Among Mad People. Cheshire Cat: Oh, You Can't Help That. Most Everyone's Mad Here. [laughs Maniacally; Starts To Disappear] Cheshire Cat: You May Have Noticed That I'm Not All There Myself.

What A Funny Watch!’ She Remarked. ‘it Tells The Day Of The Month, And Doesn’t Tell What O’clock It Is!’ ‘why Should It?’ Muttered The Hatter. ‘does Your Watch Tell You What Year It Is?’ ‘of Course Not,’ Alice Replied Very Readily: ‘but That’s Because It Stays The Same Year For Such A Long Time Together.’ ‘which Is Just The Case With Mine,’ Said The Hatter.