“I have had high times. But the best times of all were afterward, just afterward, with the gun warm in my hand, the bite of smoke in my nose, the taste of death on my tongue, my heart high in my gullet, the danger past, and then the sweat, suddenly, and the nothingness, and the sweet clean feel of being born.”
“That night, when all the animals were tucked in bed, Bramwell thought about the day’s adventures and looked at the others. Rabbit was dreaming exciting dreams about bouncing as high as an airplane. Duck was dreaming that he could really fly and was rescuing bears from all sorts of high places. Little Bear was dreaming of all the interesting things he had seen in the attic, and Old Bear was dreaming about the good times he would have now that he was back with his friends. ‘I knew it was going to be a special day,’ said Bramwell Brown to himself...”
“Life has good and bad times. And to get through them you have to battle. Life is not all smooth. I’ve had my bumps and bruises, like anybody, but I’ve always tried to look at life like a glass that’s half full.”
“If I know anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit,” he said, “and Rabbit means Company,” he said, “and Company means Food and Listening-to-Me-Humming and such like.”
One day when the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it the scent of may, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy comfortable way that it was the other fellow’s fault, but it didn’t matter very much; on such a day as this Christopher Robin whistled in a special way he had, and Owl came flying out of the Hundred Acre Wood to see what was wanted.