No Sensible Author Wants Anything But Praise.

The Third-rate Mind Is Only Happy When It Is Thinking With The Majority. The Second-rate Mind Is Only Happy When It Is Thinking With The Minority. The First-rate Mind Is Only Happy When It Is Thinking.

But [pooh] Couldn't Sleep. The More He Tried To Sleep The More He Couldn't. He Tried Counting Sheep, Which Is Sometimes A Good Way Of Getting To Sleep, And, As That Was No Good, He Tried Counting Heffalumps. And That Was Worse. Because Every Heffalump That He Counted Was Making Straight For A Pot Of Pooh's Honey, And Eating It All. For Some Minutes He Lay There Miserably, But When The Five Hundred And Eighty-seventh Heffalump Was Licking Its Jaws, And Saying To Itself, "very Good Honey This, I Don't Know When I've Tasted Better," Pooh Could Bear It No Longer.

Organizing Is What You Do Before You Do Something, So That When You Do It, It Is Not All Mixed Up.

Promise You Won't Forget Me, Ever. Not Even When I'm A Hundred.

If There's A Buzzing-noise, Somebody's Making A Buzzing-noise, And The Only Reason For Making A Buzzing-noise That I Know Of Is Because You're A Bee.