You Can't Help Respecting Anybody Who Can

You Gave Me Christopher Robin, And Then You Breathed New Life In Pooh. Whatever Of Each Has Left My Pen Goes Homing Back To You. My Book Is Ready, And Comes To Greet The Mother It Longs To See -- It Would Be My Present To You, My Sweet, If It Weren't Your Gift To Me.

Tut, Tut, Looks Like Rain

What I Like Doing Best Is Nothing." "how Do You Do Nothing," Asked Pooh After He Had Wondered For A Long Time. "well, It's When People Call Out At You Just As You're Going Off To Do It, 'what Are You Going To Do, Christopher Robin?' And You Say, 'oh, Nothing,' And Then You Go And Do It. It Means Just Going Along, Listening To All The Things You Can't Hear, And Not Bothering." "oh!" Said Pooh.

Chess Has This In Common With Making Poetry; That The Desire For It Comes Upon The Amateur In Gusts.

Sometimes, If You Stand On The Bottom Rail Of A Bridge And Lean Over To Watch The River Slipping Slowly Away Beneath You, You Will Suddenly Know Everything There Is To Be Known.