Toad Talked Big About All He Was

There Is Nothing - Absolutely Nothing - Half So Much Worth Doing As Simply Messing About In Boats.

There Was The Noise Of A Bolt Shot Back, And The Door Opened A Few Inches, Enough To Show A Long Snout And A Pair Of Sleepy Blinking Eyes.

The River , Corrected The Rat, It's My World...what It Hasn't Got Is Not Worth Having.

It's Not The Sort Of Night For Bed, Anyhow.

In Midmost Of The Stream, Embraced In The Weir's Shimmering Arm-spread, A Small Island Lay Anchored, Fringed Close With Willow And Silver Birch And Alder. Reserved, Shy, But Full Of Significance, It Hid Whatever It Might Hold Behind A Veil, Keeping It Till The Hour Should Come, And, With The Hour, Those Who Were Called And Chosen.