Best 147 quotes in «alice in wonderland quotes» category

Alice: “Bana hangi yoldan gitmem gerektiğini söyler misin?" Kedi: "Bu neyi istediğine ve neye ulaşmaya çalıştığına bağlı." Alice: "Şey, bilmem ki..." Kedi: "O zaman hangi yoldan gittiğin farketmez.

Alice: How long is forever? White Rabbit: Sometimes, just one second. ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here? The Cheshire Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to. Alice: I don't much care where. The Cheshire Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go. Alice: ...So long as I get somewhere. The Cheshire Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.

Alice: I didn't know that cheshire cats grinned. In fact, I didn't know that cats could grin. Duchess: They can, and most of 'em do.

All of us are like Alice chasing our goals and tumbling down into a crazy wonderland

All I could think of was the phrase my dad’s father used to say to him when I was a kid, “Don't let your alligator mouth overload your hummingbird ass,” and I think I’d done just that.

...although I wonder whether it wouldn't be more accurate to say, 'Once given, I can never be taken back.'" "That would imply we give our hearts away willingly, and I am not sure that is the case.

And it certainly did seem a little provoking ('almost as if it happened on purpose,' she thought) that, though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful rushes as the boat glided by, there was always a more lovely one that she couldn't reach. "The prettiest are always further!" she said at last, with a sigh at the obstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off.

As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. 'Whoever lives there,' thought Alice, 'it'll never do to come upon them this size: why, I should frighten them out of their wits!' So she began nibbling at the righthand bit again, did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high.

Bad boys needed love too. Her boys weren't dangerous-just naughty.

A likely story indeed!" said the Pigeon, in a tone of the deepest contempt. "I've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that! No, no! You're a serpent; and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!" "I have tasted eggs, certainly," said Alice, who was a very truthful child; "but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know." "I don't believe it," said the Pigeon; "but if they do, then they're a kind of serpent: that's all I can say.

Bitte sage mir, welchen Weg ich gehen soll. Das hängt davon ab, wohin du willst.

But I was thinking of a plan To dye one's whiskers green, And always use so large a fan That they could not be seen." from The White Knights Song

But the nightmare was a strange comfort to me; in it, I found a sense of escape, and were it possible to go live in that nightmare, I would have, bizzare though that may sound.

Can I go home now? Please?” He grinned slightly. “No. Not until you acknowledge your pain and move passed it.” “This is crap, Oliver. I don’t want to face anything. I don’t need to be fixed.

But which way do I go from here?” she wondered, searching the unfamiliar city. “That depends a great deal on where you want to go,

Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, 'if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.

Destinies, are like roads. Relationships are much like destinies. Therefore, relationships are like roads. Some roads are circular. They start at one spot and end in the same. Some roads fork and force. Their travelers to choose which way to go. Some roads go great distances. And then there are those that end abruptly. Who is to say that a short road is less meaningful than a long?

Ever since I saw you, I can't think of anyone or anything else," he whispered then leaned in and set a soft kiss on my lips.

But, I nearly forgot, you must close your eyes otherwise you won't see anything

Cat," I whispered. "Are you mad?" "Yes. But we're all mad here.

Darkness grew where it would and took what it wanted. It staked its claim and never let go. And no one else could pry you free of it.

From the moment I fell down that rabbit hole I've been told where I must go and who I must be. I've been shrunk, stretched, scratched, and stuffed into a teapot. I've been accused of being Alice and of not being Alice but this is *my* dream. *I'll* decide where it goes from here.

Everyone knows: people who cross boarders do so for a reason.

For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into half halves - to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a weekday. Do you think he cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer - and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the 'dim religious light' of some solemn cathedral?

From an essay on early reading by Robert Pinsky: My favorite reading for many years was the "Alice" books. The sentences had the same somber, drugged conviction as Sir John Tenniel's illustrations, an inexplicable, shadowy dignity that reminded me of the portraits and symbols engraved on paper money. The books were not made of words and sentences but of that smoky assurance, the insistent solidity of folded, textured, Victorian interiors elaborately barricaded against the doubt and ennui of a dreadfully God-forsaken vision. The drama of resisting some corrosive, enervating loss, some menacing boredom, made itself clear in the matter-of-fact reality of the story. Behind the drawings I felt not merely a tissue of words and sentences but an unquestioned, definite reality. I read the books over and over. Inevitably, at some point, I began trying to see how it was done, to unravel the making--to read the words as words, to peek behind the reality. The loss entailed by such knowledge is immense. Is the romance of "being a writer"--a romance perhaps even created to compensate for this catastrophic loss--worth the price? The process can be epitomized by the episode that goes with one of my favorite illustrations. Alice has entered a dark wood--"much darker than the last wood": [S]he reached the wood: It looked very cool and shady. "Well, at any rate it's a great comfort," she said as she stepped under the trees, "after being so hot, to get into the--into the--into what?" she went on, rather surprised at not being able to think of the word. "I mean to get under the--under the--under this, you know!" putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. "What does it call itself, I wonder? I do believe it's got no name--why to be sure it hasn't!" This is the wood where things have no names, which Alice has been warned about. As she tries to remember her own name ("I know it begins with L!"), a Fawn comes wandering by. In its soft, sweet voice, the Fawn asks Alice, "What do you call yourself?" Alice returns the question, the creature replies, "I'll tell you, if you'll come a little further on . . . . I can't remember here". The Tenniel picture that I still find affecting illustrates the first part of the next sentence: So they walked on together through the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice's arm. "I'm a Fawn!" it cried out in a voice of delight. "And dear me! you're a human child!" A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed. In the illustration, the little girl and the animal walk together with a slightly awkward intimacy, Alice's right arm circled over the Fawn's neck and back so that the fingers of her two hands meet in front of her waist, barely close enough to mesh a little, a space between the thumbs. They both look forward, and the affecting clumsiness of the pose suggests that they are tripping one another. The great-eyed Fawn's legs are breathtakingly thin. Alice's expression is calm, a little melancholy or spaced-out. What an allegory of the fall into language. To imagine a child crossing over from the jubilant, passive experience of such a passage in its physical reality, over into the phrase-by-phrase, conscious analysis of how it is done--all that movement and reversal and feeling and texture in a handful of sentences--is somewhat like imagining a parallel masking of life itself, as if I were to discover, on reflection, that this room where I am writing, the keyboard, the jar of pens, the lamp, the rain outside, were all made out of words. From "Some Notes on Reading," in The Most Wonderful Books (Milkweed Editions)

Fuathan don’t come out until after dark. Sunlight kills them.’ ‘Like vampires?’ ‘Kind of. Very mean, sub-aquatic vampires who don’t need to drink your blood, but might do it anyway, just for fun.

Gavin turned to leave, and I was right behind him so I could close the door when he walked out, but he stopped short and turned back around. I bumped straight into him, our faces close, too close, at this point. “I’ve missed you,” Gavin whispered.

Hello, Alice," the caterpillar said, his voice deep and rich.

He lifted his shirt, and on his back was the White Rabbit, wearing his waistcoat and looking at his watch. It was just like the illustration from the book. Only standing next to him, back-to-back, was another White Rabbit wearing a leather motercycle jacket and boots and smoking a cigar.

Here is your schedule," she said, sliding a piece of paper to me. I picked it up and read it aloud. "Wildcrafting 100, Alchemy of Baking 100, Teamancy 100, Magical Weapons Training 200, Creatures of Wonderland, and History of Wonderland. What, no Quidditch?" "What's Quidditch?

How come "burbled" gets to be in the Oxford English Dictionary but "tulgy" doesn't? Hm?

I always thought they were fabulous monsters!" said the Unicorn. "Is it alive?" "It can talk," said Haigha, solemnly. The Unicorn looked dreamily at Alice, and said, "Talk, child." Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: "Do you know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never saw one alive before!" "Well, now that we have seen each other," said the Unicorn, "if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you. Is that a bargain?

Everyone, this is the new girl. Elder knows her. New girl, this is everyone.” A few people look up politely; some actually smile. Most, however, look wary at best, disgusted at worse. The nurse closest to me jabs her finger behind her ear and starts whispering to nobody. “What’s wrong with her?” I ask Harley as he leads me to the table he was sitting at. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re all mad here.” I giggle, mostly from nerves. “It’s a good thing I read Alice in Wonder-land . I definitely think I’ve fallen into the rabbit hole.” “Read what?” Harley asks. “Never mind.” All around me, eyes follow my every move. “Look,” I say loudly. “I know I look different. But I’m just a person, like you.” I hold my head up high, looking them all in the eyes, trying to hold their stares for as long as possible. “You tell ’em,” says Harley with another Cheshire grin.

Fury said to a mouse, That he met in the house, "Let us both go to law: I will prosecute you. -Come, I'll take no denial; We must have a trial: For really this morning I've nothin to do." Said the mouse to the cur, "Such a trial, dear Sir, With no jury or judge, would be wasting our breath." "I'll be judge, I'll be jury," Said cunning old Fury: "I'll try the whole cause, and condemn you to death,

His head exploded. I’d never seen someone’s head explode. I never thought I would. Maybe in the movies, but not in real life. It’s amazing what a 12-gauge can do at close range.

How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tall, and pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale.” His eyes flicked meaningfully from the book to Alice before he continued. “How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws.

How long is forever? Sometimes just one second

How's your day?" "Weird," he said with a shake of the head. "A flower shushed me today." He huffed a laugh. "You win.

I did not die today, so I will not fear death tomorrow.

I don't like the looks of it,' said the King: 'however, it may kis my hand, if it likes.' 'I'd rather not,' the Cat remarked.

I don't know what you mean by 'glory,' " Alice said. Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. "Of course you don't—till I tell you. I meant 'there's a nice knock-down argument for you!' " "But 'glory' doesn't mean 'a nice knock-down argument'," Alice objected. "When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less." "The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things." "The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be master—that's all.

I fell down the rabbit hole, and the more I try to scramble for the sides, the faster I fall.", FADE by Kailin Gow

I fell into the water with a large splash and sunk like a stone. My feet guided the way as I drifted further into the murky depths. Down. Down. Down.

If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does.

If you jotted down all of my ill-thought out comments, you could write a book entitled, Guide to Getting Punched in the Throat for Boneheads-Mad Hatter in "Death of the Mad Hatter" (Coming Soon!)

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 contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?

If you want to be my Alice, I am in Wonderland.

I gave my son a lavishly illustrated edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for his fourth birthday, and it did not take very long for me to realize that this was a gift for me, not for him. As Alice engaged in repartee with a dodo early in the book, my son became bored. Alice’s bewilderment and disorientation, which I had anticipated might speak to my son’s experience of being a child in an adult’s world, spoke instead to my own experience navigating the world of information. Being lost in Wonderland is what it feels like to learn about an unfamiliar subject, and research is inevitably a rabbit hole. I fell down it, in my investigation of immunization, and fell and fell, finding that it was much deeper than I anticipated. Like Alice, I fell past shelves full of books, more than I could ever read. Like Alice, I arrived at locked doors. “Drink me,” I was commanded by one source. “Eat me,” I was told by another. They had opposite effects - I grew and shrank, I believed and did not believe. I cried and then found myself swimming in my own own tears.

Ihr könnt nicht alle regieren. Besser, ihr bringt eucht jetzt gleich gegenseitig um", empfiehlt die Katze meinen Freundinnen zum Abschied. Snow runzelt die Stirn. "Du hast wohl zu viel Game of Thrones geschaut." Glücklicherweise folgen mir jetzt alle, sodass wir endlich Abstand zwischen uns und die durchgeknallte Katze bringen. "Wer ich?", fragt die Grinsekatze. "Erster meines Namens, aus dem Hause Grin, Beschützer des Dunkelwaldes, Wächter über alle Thunfische, Vater von ...