\\\’It was much pleasanter at home,\\\’ thought poor Alice, \\\’when one wasn\\\’t always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn\\\’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it\\\’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what CAN have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I\\\’ll write one—but I\\\’m grown up now,\\\’ she added in a sorrowful tone; \\\’at least there\\\’s no room to grow up any more HERE.\\\’
\\\’But then,\\\’ thought Alice, \\\’shall I NEVER get any older than I am now? That\\\’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn\\\’t like THAT!\\\’
