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The things that make me different are the things that make 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
Inspirational
Beautiful
Different
Make
Things
Piglet
Life
Graduation
Conformity
Individuality
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On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, The feeling on me grows and grows That hardly anybody knows If those are these or these are those.
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And how are you? said Winnie-the-Pooh. Eeyore shook his head from side to side. Not very how, he said. I don't seem to have felt at all how for a long time. Dear, dear, said Pooh, I'm sorry about that. Let's have a look at you.
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Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.
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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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My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places.
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The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, Why? and sometimes he thought, Wherefore? and sometimes he thought, Inasmuch as which? and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking
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But Piglet is so small that he slips into a pocket, where it is very comfortable to feel him when you are not quite sure whether twice seven is twelve or twenty-two.
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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.
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Something feels funny. I must be thinking too hard.
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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 used to believe in forever, but forever's too good to be true
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People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.
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Life is so much friendlier with two.
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What I say is that, if a man really likes potatoes, he must be a pretty decent sort of fellow.
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Tut, Tut, looks like rain
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To seem natural rather than to be natural.
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I wonder what Piglet is doing, thought Pooh. I wish I were there to be doing it, too.
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Why does a silly bird go on saying chiff-chaff all day long? Is it happiness or hiccups?
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When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.
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