“I’m not a helpful creature,” he purred. “I’m a precise one. There’s a difference. Helpfulness fills the teacup. Precision asks why the teacup exists when your hands would do just fine.”
“Good!” He laughed, and the laugh was a physical thing—a ripple through the air that made the mushrooms sway. “Understanding is just a slower kind of madness. The fastest kind is what you’re doing right now. Pretending this is a dream so you don’t have to admit that you are the dream and Wonderland is the dreamer.” Cheshire Cat Monologue
Alice sat on a toadstool that squeaked politely. “Everyone’s angry today. The Red Queen wanted my head for using the wrong fork. At breakfast.” “I’m not a helpful creature,” he purred
Alice found him on a branch of the old Twistwood Tree, which grew in impossible directions—some limbs pointing down into the earth, others curling into their own knots like thoughts trying to escape. Helpfulness fills the teacup
The Duchess’s pepper-pot had long since stopped sneezing, the Queen’s croquet match had devolved into its usual charming chaos of screams and decapitations, and even the Hatter had run out of bad puns. The quiet was, for Wonderland, suspicious.
Ваше сообщение отправлено, мы вам перезвоним в самое ближайшее время!