“Oh, I have plenty of problems with Rabbit, it’s just that my comfort level with his name is standing in line behind about a hundred more important things.”

“Who are you? Rabbit and Souris call you ‘Alice,’ me and Dee call you ‘Faye.’ I just didn’t know if ‘Alice’ was your poker-playing, Southern Hemisphere name or what. Hey, I’m just trying to fit in here. If I should be introducing myself as ‘Clark,’ I want to know about it sooner rather than later so I don’t embarrass myself.”

“Oh, Alice, you haven’t even had a taste of my romantic streak yet. And when the time’s right I don’t think I’ll have to ‘try’ to have my way with you. I just WILL.”

“Okay, so English settlers brought rabbits with them to Australia to breed for food and stuff, right? But they escaped and basically started destroying the country, eating the vegetation, that kind of thing. So by the early 1900s, the government was trying to figure out a way to get rid of all the rabbits. Want to hear what their genius plan was? The rabbit-proof fence. Worked out great for the rabbits. Once they learned how to play badminton and got the hang of tennis on grass, they couldn’t remember how they ever lived without it. Supposedly there was something like six hundred million rabbits by 1950. But you’re missing the point. The point is that even though it was pretty obvious from the beginning it wasn’t working, they kept right on building it—two thousand miles of it.”

“I want to kiss my brother for being so tactful. Rabbit looks grateful as well, and I can only imagine what it would be like to trot out your embarrassing 'enjo kosai' problem in front of your sister, your former love-interest of a couple of weeks, and her two siblings.”

“Be a good little Alice and just follow the White Rabbit, okay?”

“Oh, and Mr. Montgomery? I think I counted about four dozen important-sounding words and almost no substance at all in that explanation. I don’t think you should close the door on your diplomatic career entirely.”