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

She also considered very seriously what she would look like in a little cottage in the middle of the forest, dressed in a melancholy gray and holding communion only with the birds and trees; a life of retirement away from the vain world; a life into which no man came. It had its attractions, but she decided that gray did not suit her.

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.

If you want to make a song more hummy, add a few tiddely poms.

How sweet to be a Cloud. Floating in the Blue!

If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever.

I do like a little bit of butter to my bread.