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They might or they might not. You never can tell with bees.

Pooh looked at his two paws. He knew that one of them was the right, and he knew that when you had decided which one of them was the right, then the other one was the left, but he never could remember how to begin.

Some have brains, and some haven't, he says, and there it is.

"And that's the whole poem," he said. "Do you like it, Piglet?" "All except the shillings," said Piglet. "I don't think they ought to be there." "They wanted to come in after the pounds," explained Pooh, " so I let them. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come."

"Hallo, Rabbit," he said, "is that you?" "Let's pretend it isn't," said Rabbit, "and see what happens".

"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?" "What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?" "I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting to-day?" said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing," he said.

"Owl! I require an answer! It's Bear speaking."

How sweet to be a Cloud Floating in the Blue! Every little Cloud. Always sings aloud.

Tut-tut, it looks like rain.

It all comes of liking honey so much.

"It all comes", said Pooh crossly, "of not having front doors big enough." "It all comes", said Rabbit sternly. "of eating too much."

Then Piglet saw what a Foolish Piglet he had been, and he was so ashamed of himself that he ran off home and went to bed with a headache.

— Нельзя же чихать и не знать, что ты чихнул.

— Ну и нельзя знать, что кто-то чихнул, когда никто не чихал.

Иногда он грустно думал: "Почему?", а иногда: "По какой причине?", а иногда он думал даже так: "Какой из этого следует вывод?" И неудивительно, что порой он вообще переставал понимать, о чём же он, собственно, думает.

Here is Edward bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping and think of it.

It wasn't much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn't share them with somebody.

Когда все вернулись на лужайку, Иа всё ещё продолжал сидеть, опустив хвост в воду. — Пусть кто-нибудь скажет Ру, чтобы он поторопился, — сказал он. — Мой хвост озяб. Я не жалуюсь, я просто констатирую факт. Мой хвост замёрз. — Вот я! — пропищал Ру. — Ах, вот ты где! — Ты видел, как я плаваю? Иа вытащил хвост из воды и помахал им. — Я так и думал, — сказал он. — Ничего не чувствует. Онемел. Вот до чего дошло. Он окоченел. Ну что ж, если это никого не беспокоит, значит, так и должно быть.