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 man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him. And in that way he becomes immortal.

It was that night I discovered that most things you consider evil or wicked are simply lonely, and lacking in the social niceties.

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true. What they don't tell you is that when it starts again, it moves extra fast to catch up.

Excrement! That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard! We're not laying pipe! We're talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? "I like Byron, I give him a 42 but I can't dance to it!"

All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.

Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.

I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn’t much improved my opinion of them.

Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.

Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.

I'm here, I can't remember anything about who I was. And if I am to disappear someday without accomplishing anything, what's the meaning of my existence?

7 billion people on a small planet, suspended in the vastness of space and we are alone. The meaning of all this is the great mystery of our fragile existence. Perhaps the fact of being alone in the universe unites us, makes us depend on each other for small things, creating a quantum correlation between you and me, between us. And if this is true, then we live in a world where anything is possible.

The point when all things are possible; the moment when a choice was made or an action taken; the breath inhaled before a first step forward. And the most lasting chain reactions that are started by those moments. And actions and choices are always the ones that are started by love.

To deny our own impulses is to deny the very thing that makes us human.

Now! This is it! Now is the time to choose! Die and be free of pain, or live and fight your sorrow! Now is the time to shape your stories! Your fate is in your hands!

It would be so easy...to let my fate just carry me away...following this same path my whole life through. But I know...I can't. What I do, I do...with no regrets.

When there is evil in this world that justice cannot defeat, would you taint your hands with evil to defeat evil? Or would you remain steadfast and righteous even if it means surrendering to evil?

I don't think it's possible to save everyone. I just want to save as many as I can.

Strength without determination means nothing, and determination without strength is equally useless.

However, humans did not realize that truth no matter how high they staked their mountains of corpses. That's because in no matter what era the courageous and fearless great heroes have always bedazzled the eyes of the multitude with their splendid heroic legends. Because of the wistful actions of those idiots and their refusal to admit that bloodshed is by itself evil, the essence of humans has stayed on the same spot since the Stone Age!

Those who are allowed to shoot are those who are prepared to be shot.

Let me tell you something... People that misbehave for other people's sake, are the ones I hate most!

Please... no matter how much despair awaits them... Let what remains at the end of their stories… Be like that sunny day… Full of gentle light.

I salute those devoted to expending energy in their lives.

If someone didn't have any pride, wouldn't they also be lacking in self-confidence? If someone was free of greed, wouldn't they have trouble supporting their family? And if people didn't envy one another, wouldn't they stop inventing new things?

You must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Don't be resigned to that. Break out!

Maybe there are copies of me on countless world lines. Maybe all their minds are connected, forming a single "me." That sounds wonderful, don't you think? Being in all times and in all places. A strong love for someone... a strong belief in something... a strong desire to convey something... If all those things go beyond time to create "you"... ...then that would be magnificent.

If happiness had a form, what would it look like? It might be something like glass, because one doesn't notice it normally. However, it is actually there. As proof, if you look at it from a different angle, the glass will reflect light. It will state it's presence and existence more eloquently than any other thing in this world.