I used to believe in forever, but forever's too good to be true

Come, come, come. Without a monster or two it's not a quest, merely a gaggle of friends wandering about.

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.

On Monday, when the sun is hot, I wonder to myself a lot. Now is it true, or is it not, that what is which and which is what?

A pipe in the mouth makes it clear that there has been no mistake-you are undoubtedly a man.

Good morning, Eeyore," said Pooh. "Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning, which I doubt," said he. "Why, what's the matter?" "Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it." "Can't all what?" said Pooh, rubbing his nose. "Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.

And I’d say to myself as I looked so lazily down at the sea: “There’s nobody else in the world, and the world was made for me.