People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.

I was walking along looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn't anymore.

They wanted to come in after the pounds", explained Pooh, "so I let them. It's the best way to write poetry, letting things come.

I'll give you three guesses, Rabbit. Digging holes in the ground? Wrong. Leaping from branch to branch of a young oak tree? Wrong. Waiting for somebody to help me out of the river? Right. Give Rabbit time, and he'll always get the answer.

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

The spring has sprung, the grass is rizz. I wonder where them birdies is?

I suppose that by this time they had finished their dressing. Roger Scurvilegs tells us nothing on such important matters; no doubt from modesty. "Next morning they rose," he says, and disappoints us of a picture of Udo brushing his hair.