Something Feels Funny. I Must Be Thinking

I Don’t Feel Very Much Like Pooh Today," Said Pooh. "there There," Said Piglet. "i’ll Bring You Tea And Honey Until You Do.

No Sensible Author Wants Anything But Praise.

For I Am A Bear Of Very Little Brain, And Long Words Bother Me.

But [pooh] Couldn't Sleep. The More He Tried To Sleep The More He Couldn't. He Tried Counting Sheep, Which Is Sometimes A Good Way Of Getting To Sleep, And, As That Was No Good, He Tried Counting Heffalumps. And That Was Worse. Because Every Heffalump That He Counted Was Making Straight For A Pot Of Pooh's Honey, And Eating It All. For Some Minutes He Lay There Miserably, But When The Five Hundred And Eighty-seventh Heffalump Was Licking Its Jaws, And Saying To Itself, "very Good Honey This, I Don't Know When I've Tasted Better," Pooh Could Bear It No Longer.

To Her- Hand In Hand We Come Christopher Robin And I To Lay This Book In Your Lap. Say You're Surprised? Say You Like It? Say It's Just What You Wanted? Because It's Yours- Because We Love You.