“’Tis so,” said the Duchess: “and the moral of that

is—‘Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love, that makes the world go

round!’”


“Somebody said,” Alice whispered, “that it’s done by

everybody minding their own business!”


“Ah, well! It means much the same thing,” said the Duchess, digging

her sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added, “and the

moral of that is—‘Take care of the sense, and the sounds

will take care of themselves.’”


“How fond she is of finding morals in things!” Alice thought to

herself.


“I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round

your waist,” the Duchess said after a pause: “the reason is, that

I’m doubtful about the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the

experiment?”


“He might bite,” Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all

anxious to have the experiment tried.


“Very true,” said the Duchess: “flamingoes and mustard both

bite. And the moral of that is—‘Birds of a feather flock

together.’”


“Only mustard isn’t a bird,” Alice remarked.


“Right, as usual,” said the Duchess: “what a clear way you

have of putting things!”


“It’s a mineral, I think,” said Alice.


“Of course it is,” said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to

everything that Alice said; “there’s a large mustard-mine near

here. And the moral of that is—‘The more there is of mine, the less

there is of yours.’”


“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last

remark, “it’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it

is.”


“I quite agree with you,” said the Duchess; “and the moral of

that is—‘Be what you would seem to be’—or if

you’d like it put more simply—‘Never imagine yourself not to

be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might

have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them

to be otherwise.’”


“I think I should understand that better,” Alice said very