Yet what are all such gaieties to me whose thoughts are full of indices and surds?

One! two! and through and through The vorpal blade went snickersnack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back.

In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?

I said you LOOKED like an egg, Sir. And some eggs are very pretty, you know.

I believe this thought, of the possibility of death - if calmly realised, and steadily faced would be one of the best possible tests as to our going to any scene of amusement being right or wrong.

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

Twinkle, twinkle little bat How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky.