We can’t all, and some of us don’t.
Washing, this modern behind the ears nonsense.
They have no imagination. A tail is just a tail to them, just a little something extra in the back.
Don’t blame me if it rains.
Winnie the Pooh finds comfort in counting his pots of honey, and Rabbit finds comfort in knowing where his relations are – even if he doesn’t need them at the moment.
I have been Foolish and Deluded,” said he, “and I am a Bear of No Brain at All.” “You’re the Best Bear in All the World,” said Christopher Robin soothingly. “Am I?” said Pooh hopefully. And then he brightened up suddenly. “Anyhow,” he said, “it is nearly Luncheon Time.” So he went home for it.
For some time now Pooh had been saying “Yes” and “No” in turn, with his eyes shut, to all that Owl was saying, and having said, “Yes, yes,” last time, he said “No, not at all,” now, without really knowing what Owl was talking about.
You know, when once you’ve discovered a secret yourself, it always seems as if it must be so obvious to everybody else.
It’s good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. Would you write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it for me?
Always wear a smile, because your smile is a reason for many others to smile!
Let me do it for you,” said Pooh kindly. So he reached up and knocked at the door. “I have just seen Eeyore,” he began, “and poor Eeyore is in a Very Sad Condition, because it’s his birthday, and nobody has taken any notice of it, and he’s very Gloomy – you know what Eeyore is – and there he was, and – What a long time whoever lives here is answering this door.” And he knocked again. “But Pooh,” said Piglet, “it’s your own house!” “Oh!” said Pooh. “So it is,” he said. “Well, let’s go in.
Piglet had got up early that morning to pick himself a bunch of violets; and when he had picked them and put them in a pot in the middle of his house, it suddenly came over him that nobody had ever picked Eeyore a bunch of violets, and the more he thought of this, the more he thought how sad it was to be an Animal who had never had a bunch of violets picked for him.
Christopher Robin nodded. “Then there’s only one thing to be done,” he said. “We shall have to wait for you to get thin again.” “How long does getting thin take?” asked Pooh anxiously. “About a week, I should think.
Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories, and feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one.
Hallo, Rabbit,” he said, “is that you?” “Let’s pretend it isn’t,” said Rabbit, “and see what happens.” “I’ve got a message for you.” “I’ll give it to him.
They always take longer than you think.
It is hard to be brave,’ said Piglet, sniffing slightly, ’when you’re only a Very Small Animal.
Do go and see, Owl. Because Pooh hasn’t got very much brain, and he might do something silly, and I do love him so, Owl. Do you see, Owl?
Here I am in the dark alone, What is it going to be? I can think whatever I like to think, I can play whatever I like to play, I can laugh whatever I like to laugh, There’s nobody here but me.
Childhood is not the happiest time of one’s life, but only to a child is pure happiness possible.