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.

Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.

That's right," said Eeyore. "Sing. Umty-tiddly, umty-too. Here we go gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself." "I am," said Pooh.

There must be somebody there, because somebody must have said "Nobody.

So perhaps the best thing to do is to stop writing Introductions and get on with the book.

I suppose that every one of us hopes secretly for immortality; to leave, I mean, a name behind him which will live forever in this world, whatever he may be doing, himself, in the next.

Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.