looking-glass poetry (and prose...)

by Lewis Carroll

A: Do you know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too? I never saw one alive before!
Unicorn: Well, now that we have seen each other, if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you...

Humpty Dumpty: When I use a word it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.

A: The question is, whether you can make words mean so many different things.

Humpty Dumpty: The question is, which is to be master—that’s all.

Jabberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought--

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'

He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

A: I can't believe that!

The Queen: Can't you? Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.

A: There's no use trying, one can't believe impossible things.

The Queen: I daresay you haven't had much practice. When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

The White Queen: She can't do Subtraction. Can you do Division?

Divide a loaf by a knife—what's the answer to that?

A: I suppose—

The Red Queen: Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone from a dog: what remains?

A: The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it—and the dog wouldn't remain: it would come to bite me—and I'm sure I shouldn't remain!

The Red Queen: Then you think nothing would remain?

A: I think that's the answer.

The Red Queen: Wrong, as usual, the dog's temper would remain.

A: But I don't see how—

The Red Queen: Why, look here! The dog would lose its temper, wouldn't it?

A: Perhaps it would...

The Red Queen: Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!