I guess I never understood why girls grew up admiring Cinderella or the Little Mermaid.
(And I guess for that same reason explains why I can't stand Marilyn Monroe-esque roles or Audrey Hepburn's "Holly.")
My "Princess" was/is named Alice;
stuck between the chase of catching up or falling behind time,
stuck between youth and the intimidating course of
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When Alice asked the Cheshire Cat which road she should take, he asked her where she wanted to go.
"I really don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t really matter."
"Well, then I suppose it doesn’t matter what road you take," he aptly remarked.
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Even more obvious is the fact that the hookah smoking caterpillar is known for asking Alice in that mischievous voice:
"Who...are...you?"
"Why, I hardly know, sir. I've changed so much since this morning, you see..."
"No, I do not see. Explain yourself."
"I'm afraid I can't explain myself, you see, because I'm not myself, you know."
"I do not know."
"I can't put it any more clearly, sir, because it isn't clear to me."
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