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They're funny things, Accidents. You never have them till you're having them.

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
Till
Funny
Things
Never
Accidents

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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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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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But now I am six. And I'm clever as clever. And now I think I'll stay six now forever and ever.
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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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The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh: I suppose all these people know better than I. It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
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