Lewis Carroll
Lewis Carroll
Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, better known by his pen name Lewis Carroll, was an English writer, mathematician, logician, Anglican deacon, and photographer. His most famous writings are Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, its sequel Through the Looking-Glass, which includes the poem "Jabberwocky", and the poem The Hunting of the Snark, all examples of the genre of literary nonsense. He is noted for his facility at word play, logic, and fantasy. There are societies in many parts of the world dedicated to the...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth27 January 1832
CityDaresbury, England
It would be so nice if something made sense for a change.
Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread, with bitter tiding laden, shall summon to unwelcome bed a melancholy maiden! We are but older children, dear, who fret to find our bedtime near.
What a funny watch!’ she remarked. ‘It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t tell what o’clock it is!’ ‘Why should it?’ muttered the Hatter. ‘Does YOUR watch tell you what year it is?’ ‘Of course not,’ Alice replied very readily: ‘but that’s because it stays the same year for such a long time together.’ ‘Which is just the case with MINE,’ said the Hatter.
Do let's pretend that I'm a hungry hyena, and you're a bone!
Alice! A childish story take, And with a gentile hand Lay it where Childhood dreams are twined In memory's mystic band, Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers Pluck'd in a far off land.
And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five what remains?" "Three hundred and sixty-four, of course." Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful, "I'd rather see that done on paper," he said.
You would have to be half mad to dream me up.
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
Well, it’s no use your talking about waking him, said Tweedledum, when you’re only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you’re not real. I am real! said Alice, and began to cry. You won’t make yourself a bit realer by crying, Tweedledee remarked: there’s nothing to cry about. If I wasn’t real, Alice said– half laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous– I shouldn’t be able to cry. I hope you don’t think those are real tears? Tweedledee interrupted in a tone of great contempt.
It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying "Come up again, dear!" I shall only look up and say "Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here till I'm somebody else"--but, oh dear!' cried Alice, with a sudden burst of tears, 'I do wish they WOULD put their heads down! I am so VERY tired of being all alone here!
I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it.
She's stark raving mad!
One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it-- it was the black kitten's fault entirely.
There is a place, like no place on earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger. Some say, to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter. Which, luckily, I am.