“I don't like the look of it at all,” said the King: “however, it may kiss my hand, if it likes.” “I'd rather not,” the Cat remarked.

One of the secrets of life is that all that is really worth the doing is what we do for others.

My hand moves because certain forces--electric, magnetic, or whatever 'nerve-force' may prove to be--are impressed on it by my brain. This nerve-force, stored in the brain, would probably be traceable, if Science were complete, to chemical forces supplied to the brain by the blood, and ultimately derived from the food I eat and the air I breathe.

Who did you pass on the road?" the King went on, holding out his hand to the Messenger for some more hay. "Nobody," said the Messenger. "Quite right," said the King; "this young lady saw him too. So of course Nobody walks slower than you." "I do my best," the Messenger said in a sullen tone. "I'm sure nobody walks much faster than I do!" "He can't do that," said the King, "or else he'd have been here first.

A tale begun in other days, When summer suns were glowing - A simple chime, that served to time The rhythm of your rowing - Whose echoes live in memory yet, Though envious years would say 'forget.

when she thought it over afterwards it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural

If it had grown up, it would have made a dreadfully ugly child; but it makes rather a handsome pig, I think.