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1 " Alice sighed wearily. `I think you might do something better with the time,' she said, `than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.'`If you knew Time as well as I do,' said the Hatter, `you wouldn't talk about wasting it. It's him.'`I don't know what you mean,' said Alice.`Of course you don't!' the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. `I dare say you never even spoke to Time!'`Perhaps not,' Alice cautiously replied: `but I know I have to beat time when I learn music.'`Ah! that accounts for it,' said the Hatter. `He won't stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o'clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner! "
2 " Imagine for a moment that you are the proud owner of a large house which you have spent years of your life painting and decorating and filling with everything you love. It's your home. It's something you've made your own, something for you to be remembered by, something that, perhaps years later, your children and grandchildren can visit and get a view of your life in. It's part of your creativity, your hard work... it's your property.Now suppose you decide to go camping for a couple of weeks. You lock your door and assume that nobody is going to break in... but they do, and when you return home, to your horror you find that not only do these trespassers break in, but they also have quite uniquely imaginative ways of disrespecting, vandalizing and corrupting everything within your property. They light fires on your lawn, your topiary hedges are in heaps of black ashes. There's some blatantly obscene graffiti splattered across your front door, offensive images and rude words splashed on the walls and windows. Your television has been tipped over. Your photographs of family and friends have had the heads cut out of them. There's mold growing in the refrigerator, bottles of booze tipped over on the table, and cigarette smoke embedded into the carpeting. Your beloved houseplants are dead, your furniture has been stripped down and ruined. Basically, the thing you've spent years working for and creating within your lifetime has been tampered with to the point where it is just a grim joke.So, I feel terrible for poor Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jane Austen and Lewis Carroll, who must be spinning in their graves since they have no rights to their own works of fiction anymore. I'm all for readers being able to read books for free once and only when the deceased author's copyright eventually ends. Still though, did Doyle ever think in a million years that his wonderful characters would be dragged through the mud of every pervy fanfiction that the sick internet geek can think of to create? Did Carroll ever suspect that Alice and the Hatter would become freakish clown-like goth caricatures in Tim Burton's CGI-infested films? Would Austen really want her writing to be sold as badly-formatted ebooks?The sharing of this Public Domain content isn't really an issue. Stories are meant to be told, meant to echo onward forever. That's what makes them magical. That being said, in the Information Age, there's a real lack of respect towards the creators of this original content. If, when I've been dead for 70 years and I then no longer have the rights to my novels, somebody gets the bright idea of doing anything funny with any of those novels, my ghost is going to rise from the grave and do some serious ass-kicking. "
3 " I… I can’t. I wish I were a little bolder.”“What for?” the Hatter asked. “Being a small rock wouldn’t be much fun. "
4 " Squeezing her eyes shut, hating every moment, the put a single finger in and moved it around.“There’s nothing,” she lamented.“Go deeper.”Alice did.“Deeper.”“There’s nothing,” she yelled, pulling out her hand in anger and humiliation.“Of course there is nothing,” the Hatter said. “Who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing?”“So why did you make me do it?” Alice demanded.“Because it was really hot,” he answered. "
5 " The sound of the gunshot in that narrow tunnel was like being inside a thunderbolt. I held my eyes closed, my fingers still clinging to the barrel." Ow!" the Mad Hatter shouted a distance ahead. " That thing is loud!" I opened my eyes. Nine of Spades lay in front of me. He didn't move." Heh. You've got quite a roar, little lion. I've never seen a lion's roar do that, but I've never seen an elephant fit in a tin can either. "
6 " Mrs. Pott's beady black eyes narrowed," Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am! I've taken a chance on you.. "
7 " Mrs. Potts beady black eyes narrowed," Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am! "
8 " 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!) "
9 " My second meeting with Vincent Starrett began on a cool Sunday afternoon in May of 1962. After a short interlude, he returned from the kitchen precariously balancing a large cup of tea on a very small saucer. It was the largest tea cup I had ever seen, large enough to startle, I am inclined to suspect, even the Mad Hatter in 'Alice in Wonderland. "
― , The Last Bookman
10 " Mad Hatter: “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.“No, I give it up,” Alice replied: “What’s the answer?”“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter "
― , Alice in Wonderland