"Life is worth while," said Alice, "in itself, not because of what it gives you."
"I agree with you there," said Reuben, "it's not wot life gives that's good, it's wot you täake out of it."
"I don't see that. Suppose that because I liked that girl's face in the picture I tore it out and kept it for myself, I should only spoil the picture—the piece I'd torn out wouldn't be any good to me away from the rest."
"I can't foller you," said Reuben gruffly.
"Now don't pretend to be stupid—don't pretend you can't understand anything but turnips."
"And döan't pretend you can't understand naun but picturs. A good solid turnup in real life is worth a dozen pretty gals in picturs."
"That's right—have the courage of your earthiness. But don't try to make me think that when you look out of the window at Boarzell, you don't see the sky beyond it."
"And döan't you try and make out as when you're looking at the sky you döan't see Boarzell standing in between."
"I don't try and make it out. I see your point of view, but it's only 'in between' me—and you—and something greater."
"Rubbidge!" said Reuben.