By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, “There is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late.

So - here I am in the dark alone, There's nobody here to see; I think to myself, I play to myself, And nobody knows what I say to myself; Here I am in the dark alone, What is it going to be? I can think whatever I like to think, I can play whatever I like to play, I can laugh whatever I like to laugh, There's nobody here but me.

Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits.

Turn around, Piglet. Step lightly, Pooh. This silly ol' dance is perfect for two.

Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.

Hallo, Eeyore." "Same to you, Pooh Bear, and twice on Thursdays," said Eeyore gloomily. Before Pooh could say: 'Why Thursdays?' Christopher Robin began to explain the sad story of Eeyore's lost house.

Don't talk anybody, don't come near! Can't you see the fish might hear? He thinks I'm playing with a piece of string; He thinks I'm another sort of funny thing, But he doesn't know I'm fishing - He doesn't know I'm fishing. That's what I'm doing - Fishing.