A.A. Milne

" You know something Pooh. I'm not going to do just nothing anymore."

"You mean never again?"

"Well, not so much. They just don't let you."

One day when Pooh was thinking, he thought he would go and see Eeyore, because he hadn't seen him since yesterday.

"Nearly eleven o'clock," said Pooh happily. "You're just in time for a little smackerel of something."

Now it happened that Kanga had felt rather motherly that morning, and Wanting to Count Things — like Roo's vests, and how many pieces of soap there were left, and the two clean spots in Tigger's feeder.

"Shall I look too?" said Pooh, who was beginning to feel a little eleven o'clockish. And he found a small tin of condensed milk, and something seemed to tell him that Tiggers didn't like this, so he took it into a corner by itself, and went with it to see that nobody interrupted it.

Owl took Christopher Robin's notice from Rabbit and looked at it nervously. He could spell his own name WOL, and he could spell Tuesday so that you knew it wasn't Wednesday, and he could read quite comfortably when you weren't looking over his shoulder and saying "Well?" all the time, and he could—

"Yes," said Tigger, "they're very good flyers, Tiggers are. Strornry good flyers."

"I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit.

"No," said Pooh humbly, "there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it on the way."

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."

Piglet took Pooh's arm, in case Pooh was frightened.

Piglet looked up, and looked away again. And he felt so Foolish and Uncomfortable that he had almost decided to run away to Sea and be a Sailor, when suddenly he saw something.

"They wanted to come in after the pounds", explained Pooh, "so I let them. It's the best way to write poetry, letting things come".