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For I am a bear of very little brain, and long words bother me.
A. A. Milne
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A. A. Milne
Age: 74 †
Born: 1882
Born: January 18
Died: 1956
Died: January 31
Author
Essayist
Military Officer
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
Screenwriter
Writer
London
England
Alan Alexander Milne
A.A. Milne
Bears
Brain
Words
Littles
Little
Writing
Editing
Long
Bother
Bear
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One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.
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Oh, Eeyore, you are wet!” said Piglet, feeling him. Eeyore shook himself, and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside a river for quite a long time.
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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.
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When I was One, I had just begun. When I was Two, I was nearly new. When I was Three I was hardly me. When I was Four, I was not much more. When I was Five, I was just alive. But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever, So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.
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If you want to make a song more hummy, add a few tiddely poms.
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And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.
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So perhaps the best thing to do is to stop writing Introductions and get on with the book.
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I have been Foolish and Deluded, and I am a Bear of No Brain at All.
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If the English language had been properly organized ... then there would be a word which meant both 'he' and 'she', and I could write, 'If John or Mary comes heesh will want to play tennis', which would save a lot of trouble.
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Piglet opened the letter box and climbed in. Then, having untied himself, he began to squeeze into the slit, through which in the old days when front doors were front doors, many an unexpected letter than WOL had written to himself, had come slipping.
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You can't help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right but spelling isn't everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn't count.
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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.
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We'll be friends until forever, just you wait and see
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Some have brains, and some haven't, and there it is.
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A pipe in the mouth makes it clear that there has been no mistake-you are undoubtedly a man.
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But it isn't easy,' said Pooh. 'Because Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is to go where they can find you.
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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.
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Wherever I am, there's always Pooh, There's always Pooh and Me. Whatever I do, he wants to do, Where are you going today? says Pooh: Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too. Let's go together, says Pooh, says he. Let's go together, says Pooh.
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Pooh, said Rabbit kindly, you haven't any brain. I know, said Pooh humbly.
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There was once an old sailor my grandfather knew, Who had so many things which he wanted to do That, whenever he thought it was time to begin, He couldn't because of the state he was in.
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