How Sweet To Be A Cloud. Floating

If You Live To Be A Hundred, I Want To Live To Be A Hundred Minus One Day So I Never Have To Live Without You.

What I Like Doing Best Is Nothing.

Piglet Was So Excited At The Idea Of Being Useful That He Forgot To Be Frightened Any More, And When Rabbit Went On To Say That Kangas Were Only Fierce During The Winter Months, Being At Other Times Of An Affectionate Disposition, He Could Hardly Sit Still, He Was So Eager To Begin Being Useful At Once.

I Suppose That Every One Of Us Hopes Secretly For Immortality; To Leave, I Mean, A Name Behind Him Which Will Live Forever In This World, Whatever He May Be Doing, Himself, In The Next.

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.