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.
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.
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.
At first as they stumped along the path which edged the Hundred Acre Wood, they didn’t say much to each other; but when they came to the stream, and had helped each other across the stepping stones, and were able to walk side by side again over the heather, they began to talk in a friendly way...
Pooh,” said Rabbit kindly, “you haven’t any brain.” “I know,” said Pooh humbly.
Eighteen pockets in one suit? I haven’t the time.
You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That’s Piglet.
And if anyone knows anything about anything,” said Bear to himself, “it’s Owl who knows something about something,” he said, “or my name’s not Winnie-the-Pooh,” he said. “Which it is,” he added. “So there you are.” Owl.
Good morning, Eeyore,” shouted Piglet. “Good morning, Little Piglet,” said Eeyore. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he. “Not that it matters,” he.
Grin” rhymes with “win”; don’t waste it.
In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From.
I must go forward where I have never been instead of backwards where I have.
No one can write a book which children will like, unless he write it for himself first. – A. A. Milne.
People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing everyday.
Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?
Pooh began to feel a little more comfortable, because when you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.
Eeyore nodded gloomily at him. “It will rain soon, you see if it doesn’t,” he said.
When you love what you have, you have everything you need.