If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be it would. You see?

In a wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by

'What is the use of a book', thought Alice, 'without pictures or conversations?'

It is the privilege of true genius, And especially genius who opens up a new path, To make great mistakes with impunity

Abstract qualities begin With capitals alway: The True, the Good, the Beautiful- Those are the things that pay!

Epithets, like pepper, Give zest to what you write; And if you strew them sparely, They whet the appetite: But if you lay them on too thick, You spoil the matter quite!

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!