It Is Impossible To Win Gracefully At

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.

His Dress Told Her Nothing, But His Face Told Her Things Which She Was Glad To Know.

Promise You Won't Forget Me, Ever. Not Even When I'm A Hundred.

But, Of Course, It Isn't Really Good-bye, Because The Forest Will Always Be There... And Anybody Who Is Friendly With Bears Can Find It.

If A Statement Is Untrue, It Is Not The More Respectable Because It Has Been Said In Latin.