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.

If doubtful whether to end with "yours faithfully," or "yours truly," or "yours most truly," &c. (there are at least a dozen varieties, before you reach "yours affectionately"), refer to your correspondent's last letter, and make your winding-up at least as friendly as his: in fact, even if a shade more friendly, it will do no harm!

When all has been considered, it seems to me to be the irresistible intuition that infinite punishment for finite sin would be unjust, and therefore wrong. We feel that even weak and erring Man would shrink from such an act. And we cannot conceive of God as acting on a lower standard of right and wrong.

I am fond of children - except boys.

"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. "I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take more."

Whenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), he fell off in front; and, whenever it went on again (which it generally did rather suddenly), he fell off behind. Otherwise he kept on pretty well, except that he had a habit of now and then falling off sideways; and, as he generally did this on the side on which Alice was walking, she soon found that it was the best plan not to walk quite close to the horse.

I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.