Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes.

One of the deepest motives (as you are aware) in the human beast (so deep that many have failed to detect it) is Alliteration.

How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another.

Take care of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves.

The Mad Hatter: "Would you like some wine?" Alice: "Yes..." The Mad Hatter: "We haven't any and you're too young.

When, as a child, I first opened my eyes on a Sunday-morning, a feeling of dismal anicipation, which began at least on the Friday,culminated. I knew what was before me, and my wish, if not my word, was "Would God it were evening!" It was no day of rest, but a day of texts, of catechisms (Watts'), of tracts about converted swearers, godly charwomen, and edifying deaths of sinners saved.... There was but one rosy spot, in the distance, all that day: and that was "bed-time," which never could come too early!

If only I could manage, without annoyance to my family, to get imprisoned for 10 years, "without hard labour," and with the use of books and writing materials, it would be simply delightful!