Well....

And--why should it not be contradictory; Why not?
One must face that too, after all.

Why should not a thing be true and false also?
What harm in a thing's being false?
What necessity for it to be true?
True?
What is truth?
Why should a thing be the worse for being illogical?
Why should there be any logic at all?
Did I ever see a little beast flying about with "Logic" labelled on its back?
What do I know of it, but as a sensation of my own mind--if I have any?
What proof is that that I am to obey it, and not it me?
If a flea bites me I get rid of that sensation; and if logic bothers me, I'll get rid of that too.

Phantasms must be taught to vanish courteously.
One's only hope of comfort lies in kicking feebly against the tyranny of one's own boring notions and sensations--every philosopher confesses that--and what god is logic, pray, that it is to be the sole exception ?....

What, old lady?
I give you fair warning, you must choose this day, like any nun, between the ties of family and those of duty.' Bran seized him by the skirt, and pulled him down towards the puppies; took up one of the puppies and lifted it towards him; and then repeated the action with another.
'You unconscionable old brute! You don't actually dare to expect the to carry your puppies for you ?' and he turned to go.
Bran sat down on her tail and began howling.
'Farewell, old dog! you have been a pleasant dream after all....