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Tut, Tut, looks like rain
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
Rain
Looks
Like
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Organizing is what you do before you do something, so that when you do it, it is not all mixed up.
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If a statement is untrue, it is not the more respectable because it has been said in Latin.
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Eeyore, the old grey donkey, stood by the side of the stream and looked at himself in the water. Pathetic, he said. That's what it is. Pathetic.
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I was walking along looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn't anymore.
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A Fly can't bird, but a bird can fly.
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No brain at all, some of them [people], only grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't Think.
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Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.
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What ever fortune brings, don't be afraid of doing things.
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There's the South Pole, said Christopher Robin, and I expect there's an East Pole and a West Pole, though people don't like talking about them.
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Time for a little something.
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You will be better advised to watch what we do instead of what we say.
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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.
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I used to believe in forever, but forever's too good to be true
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It's snowing still, said Eeyore gloomily. So it is. And freezing. Is it? Yes, said Eeyore. However, he said, brightening up a little, we haven't had an earthquake lately.
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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.
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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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Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?' 'Supposing it didn't,' said Pooh after careful thought. Piglet was comforted by this.
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No sensible author wants anything but praise.
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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.
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It was a drowsy summer afternoon, and the Forest was full of gentle sounds, which all seemed to be saying to Pooh, 'Don't listen to Rabbit, listen to me.' So he got in a comfortable position for not listening to Rabbit.
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