I believe it went like this—and stop me if I’m wrong, Mousey: ‘Listen, we may not be our own continent and everything, but we have a big country over in America too.
I did a show called 'Wonderland' a few years back, and I was fortunate enough to spend a full-on two weeks - I'm talking 13-15 hours a day - with the doctors and patients at Bellevue in New York. That served me well for 'Durham County.'
I had a very mixed kind of childhood reading. I read the childhood classics like 'Robinson Crusoe,' 'Alice in Wonderland,' 'Chums Annual.' At the same time, I read an enormous number of American comics because Shanghai was an American zone of influen...
Alice: 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 it is it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?
Alice: I'm sorry I interrupted your birthday party. Thank you. March Hare: Birthday? My dear child, this is NOT a birthday party. Mad Hatter: Of course not. This is an unbirthday party.
Alice: [after eating a mushroom] I'm tired of being only three inches high. [suddenly grows out of control] Alice: Yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!
Tweedle Dum: If you think we're waxworks, you ought to pay, you know. Tweedle Dee: Contrariwise, if you think we're alive you ought to speak to us. Tweedle Dum, Tweedle Dee: That's logic.
Did the Ancient Greeks ever write anything funny—like slapstick? I mean, I think I speak for everyone when I say that there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of well-written physical comedy.
Because trying to think of how to ask a woman you’ve known for exactly two days if she’d be willing to get into a car with you and take a road trip across the country was something I hadn’t quite worked up to yet.
I grimace, thinking someone should come up with a new phrase for 'I left the ocean without a kiwi-sized chunk of my lower-left butt cheek' to replace the rather nebulous term 'exploratory bite.
Walking purposefully, in the knowledge that no one with their sleeves rolled up who walks purposefully with a piece of paper held conspicuously in their hand is ever challenged, he set off across the wood and canvas wonderland of Interesting and Inst...
Faye, if you got eaten by another shark, would you please at least have the decency to say so? My time is kind of limited, if you know what I’m sayin’.
Are you referring to the day you instructed me to ‘follow the white rabbit,’ plied me with absinthe and brownies, and tried to have your way with me? Didn’t take long for you to lose your romantic streak, did it?
Oh, Alice, you haven’t even had a taste of my romantic streak yet. And when the time’s right I don’t think I’ll have to ‘try’ to have my way with you. I just WILL.
Oh, and Mr. Montgomery? I think I counted about four dozen important-sounding words and almost no substance at all in that explanation. I don’t think you should close the door on your diplomatic career entirely.
Are we turning back? Because if you’re just trying to solve my post-traumatic stress problem by exposing me to rock sharks until I’m desensitized, trust me—that ship has sailed.
That’s exactly where they send entry-level diplomats. After you cut your teeth on a few civil wars and a famine or two, you might get lucky and be given a plum post somewhere in the SECOND World.
And just so you know—that winter forest we walked into first? That was from Through the Looking Glass too. Hey, if you’re going to saddle me with the blame for your overconsumption, at least get the book right.
Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that 'Alice Faye picked a peck of pepper for the poor, piping pig in the purple poke.' Wait—is that not what we’re talking about here?
I hear they’re all infected with chlamydia, which just goes to show that you really can’t tell who’s got the clam. I mean, look at a picture of a koala…tell me you’re not shocked.
In any other fabric of space-time, my brother would have picked up Dee’s venereal disease-infested koala punt and run it straight down the line of vulgarity, all the way to the touchdown of tastelessness.
