Piglet Quotes

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh!’ he whispered. ‘Yes, Piglet?’ ‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”

“‘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 today?’ said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s the same thing,’ he said.”

“Oh, Eeyore, you are wet!” said Piglet, feeling him. Eeyore shook himself, and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside a river for quite a long time.”

“I thought,” said Piglet earnestly, “that if Eeyore stood at the bottom of the tree, and if Pooh stood on Eeyore’s back, and if I stood on Pooh’s shoulders -” “And if Eeyore’s back snapped suddenly, then we could all laugh. Ha Ha! Amusing in a quiet way,” said Eeyore, “but not really helpful.” “Well,” said Piglet meekly, “I thought -” “Would it break your back, Eeyore?” asked Pooh, very much surprised. “That’s what would be so interesting, Pooh. Not being quite sure till afterwards.”

“What a long time whoever lives here is answering this door.” And he knocked again. “But Pooh,” said Piglet, “it’s your own house!” “Oh!” Said Pooh. “So it is,” he said. “Well, let’s go in.”

“‘Rabbit’s clever,’ said Pooh thoughtfully. ‘Yes,’ said Piglet, ‘Rabbit’s clever.’ ‘And he has Brain.’ ‘Yes,’ said Piglet, ‘Rabbit has Brain.’ There was a long silence. ‘I suppose,’ said Pooh, ‘that that’s why he never understands anything.‘”

“It is hard to be brave,” said Piglet, sniffing slightly, “when you’re only a Very Small Animal.”

“It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us.”

“Pooh hasn’t much Brain, but he never comes to any harm. He does silly things and they turn out right.”

Owl hasn’t exactly got Brain, but he Knows Things.

There’s Rabbit. He hasn’t Learnt in Books, but he can always Think of a Clever Plan.

And then there’s Eeyore. And Eeyore is so miserable anyhow that he wouldn’t mind about this.

“I wish Pooh were here. It’s so much more friendly with two.”

“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.

If you go on making faces like Piglet’s, you will grow up to look like Piglet—and then think how sorry you will be.

“It’s a Missage,” he said to himself, “that’s what it is. And that letter is a ‘P,’ and so is that, and so is that, and ‘P’ means ‘Pooh,’ so it’s a very important Missage to me, and I can’t read it. I must find Christopher Robin or Owl or Piglet, one of those Clever Readers who can read things, and they will tell me what this missage means. Only I can’t swim. Bother!”

In after-years he liked to think that he had been in Very Great Danger during the Terrible Flood, but the only danger he had really been in was in the last half-hour of his imprisonment, when Owl, who had just flown up, sat on a branch of his tree to comfort him, and told him a very long story about an aunt who had once laid a seagull’s egg by mistake, and the story went on and on, rather like this sentence, until Piglet who was listening out of his window without much hope, went to sleep quietly and naturally, slipping slowly out of the window towards the water until he was only hanging on by his toes, at which moment luckily, a sudden loud squawk from Owl, which was really part of the story, being what his aunt said, woke the Piglet up and just gave him time to jerk himself back into safety and say, “How interesting, and did she?” when—well, you can imagine his joy when at last he saw the good ship, Brain of Pooh (Captain, C. Robin; 1st Mate, P. Bear) coming over the sea to rescue him.

“What I did was nothing. Any of you—except Rabbit and Owl and Kanga—would have done the same. Oh, and Pooh. My remarks do not, of course, apply to Piglet and Roo, because they are too small. Any of you would have done the same.”

So Kanga and Roo stayed in the Forest. And every Tuesday Roo spent the day with his great friend Rabbit, and every Tuesday Kanga spent the day with her great friend Pooh, teaching him to jump, and every Tuesday Piglet spent the day with his great friend Christopher Robin. So they were all happy again.

The Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech-tree, and the beech-tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived in the middle of the house. Next to his house was a piece of broken board which had: “TRESPASSERS W” on it. When Christopher Robin asked the Piglet what it meant, he said it was his grandfather’s name, and had been in the family for a long time, Christopher Robin said you couldn’t be called Trespassers W, and Piglet said yes, you could, because his grandfather was, and it was short for Trespassers Will, which was short for Trespassers William. And his grandfather had had two names in case he lost one—Trespassers after an uncle, and William after Trespassers.

Suddenly Winnie-the-Pooh stopped, and pointed excitedly in front of him. “Look!” “What?” said Piglet, with a jump. And then, to show that he hadn’t been frightened, he jumped up and down once or twice more in an exercising sort of way.

At first as they stumped along the path which edged the Hundred Acre Wood, they didn’t say much to each other; but when they came to the stream and had helped each other across the stepping stones, and were able to walk side by side again over the heather, they began to talk in a friendly way about this and that, and Piglet said, “If you see what I mean, Pooh,” and Pooh said, “It’s just what I think myself, Piglet,” and Piglet said, “But, on the other hand, Pooh, we must remember,” and Pooh said, “Quite true, Piglet, although I had forgotten it for the moment.”

“Piglet,” said Rabbit, taking out a pencil, and licking the end of it, “you haven’t any pluck.”

“What about me?” said Pooh sadly. “I suppose I shan’t be useful?” “Never mind, Pooh,” said Piglet comfortingly. “Another time perhaps.” “Without Pooh,” said Rabbit solemnly as he sharpened his pencil, “the adventure would be impossible.” “Oh!” said Piglet, and tried not to look disappointed.

The Piglet was sitting on the ground at the door of his house blowing happily at a dandelion, and wondering whether it would be this year, next year, sometime or never. He had just discovered that it would be never, and was trying to remember what “it” was, and hoping it wasn’t anything nice, when Pooh came up.

They had come to a stream which twisted and tumbled between high rocky banks, and Christopher Robin saw at once how dangerous it was. “It’s just the place,” he explained, “for an Ambush.” “What sort of bush?” whispered Pooh to Piglet. “A gorse-bush?” “My dear Pooh,” said Owl in his superior way, “don’t you know what an Ambush is?” “Owl,” said Piglet, looking round at him severely, “Pooh’s whisper was a perfectly private whisper, and there was no need——” “An Ambush,” said Owl, “is a sort of Surprise.” “So is a gorse-bush sometimes,” said Pooh. “An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh,” said Piglet, “is a sort of Surprise.” “If people jump out at you suddenly, that’s an Ambush,” said Owl. “It’s an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly,” explained Piglet. Pooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six days to get all the prickles out of himself. “We are not talking about gorse-bushes,” said Owl a little crossly. “I am,” said Pooh.

It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old—three, was it, or four?—never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days. “If only,” he thought, as he looked out of the window, “I had been in Pooh’s house, or Christopher Robin’s house, or Rabbit’s house when it began to rain, then I should have had Company all this time, instead of being here all alone, with nothing to do except wonder when it will stop.” And he imagined himself with Pooh, saying, “Did you ever see such rain, Pooh?” and Pooh saying, “Isn’t it awful, Piglet?” and Piglet saying, “I wonder how it is over Christopher Robin’s way” and Pooh saying, “I should think poor old Rabbit is about flooded out by this time.” It would have been jolly to talk like this, and really, it wasn’t much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn’t share them with somebody.

“You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That’s Piglet.”

Later on, when they had all said “Good-bye” and “Thank-you” to Christopher Robin, Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent.

And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, F.O. P. (Friend of Piglet’s), R.C. (Rabbit’s Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and T.F. (Eeyore’s Comforter and Tail-finder)—in fact, Pooh himself—said something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of Very Little Brain whom he had known and loved so long.

Of course Pooh would be with him, and it was much more Friendly with two.

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

“Thank you, Piglet,” said Pooh. “What you have just said will be a Great Help to us, and because of it I could call this place Poohanpiglet Corner if Pooh Corner didn’t sound better, which it does, being smaller and more like a corner. Come along.”

“Hallo, Piglet. This is Tigger.” “Oh, is it?” said Piglet, and he edged round to the other side of the table. “I thought Tiggers were smaller than that.” “Not the big ones,” said Tigger.

“Hallo, Eeyore!” said Pooh. “This is Tigger.” “What is?” said Eeyore. “This,” explained Pooh and Piglet together, and Tigger smiled his happiest smile and said nothing.

Eeyore walked all round Tigger one way, and then turned and walked all round him the other way. “What did you say it was?” he asked. “Tigger.” “Ah!” said Eeyore. “He’s just come,” explained Piglet. “Ah!” said Eeyore again. He thought for a long time and then said: “When is he going?”

“Do you see, Pooh? Do you see, Piglet? Brains first and then Hard Work. Look at it! That’s the way to build a house,” said Eeyore proudly.

“Did I fall on you, Piglet?” “You fell on me,” said Piglet, feeling himself all over. “I didn’t mean to,” said Pooh sorrowfully. “I didn’t mean to be underneath,” said Piglet sadly.

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.

“I’m planting a haycorn, Pooh, so that it can grow up into an oak-tree, and have lots of haycorns just outside the front door instead of having to walk miles and miles, do you see, Pooh?” “Supposing it doesn’t?” said Pooh. “It will, because Christopher Robin says it will, so that’s why I’m planting it.” “Well,” said Pooh, “if I plant a honeycomb outside my house, then it will grow up into a beehive.” Piglet wasn’t quite sure about this.

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

“Oh, there you are, Tigger!” said Christopher Robin. “I knew you’d be somewhere.” “I’ve been finding things in the Forest,” said Tigger importantly. “I’ve found a pooh and a piglet and an eeyore, but I can’t find any breakfast.”

He hurried back to his own house; and his mind was so busy on the way with the hum that he was getting ready for Eeyore that, when he suddenly saw Piglet sitting in his best arm-chair, he could only stand there rubbing his head and wondering whose house he was in. “Hallo, Piglet,” he said. “I thought you were out.” “No,” said Piglet, “it’s you who were out, Pooh.” “So it was,” said Pooh. “I knew one of us was.”

Pooh explained to Eeyore that Tigger was a great friend of Christopher Robin’s, who had come to stay in the Forest, and Piglet explained to Tigger that he mustn’t mind what Eeyore said because he was always gloomy; and Eeyore explained to Piglet that, on the contrary, he was feeling particularly cheerful this morning; and Tigger explained to anybody who was listening that he hadn’t had any breakfast yet.

Bump! “Ow!” squeaked something. “That’s funny,” thought Pooh. “I said ‘Ow!’ without really oo’ing.” “Help!” said a small, high voice. “That’s me again,” thought Pooh. “I’ve had an Accident, and fallen down a well, and my voice has gone all squeaky and works before I’m ready for it, because I’ve done something to myself inside. Bother!”

As soon as Rabbit was out of sight, Pooh remembered that he had forgotten to ask who Small was, and whether he was the sort of friend-and-relation who settled on one’s nose, or the sort who got trodden on by mistake, and as it was Too Late Now, he thought he would begin the Hunt by looking for Piglet, and asking him what they were looking for before he looked for it.

The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh’s nose and sometimes it wasn’t, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.

So he sang it again. The more it SNOWS-tiddely-pom, The more it GOES-tiddely-pom The more it GOES-tiddely-pom On Snowing. And nobody KNOWS-tiddely-pom, How cold my TOES-tiddely-pom How cold my TOES-tiddely-pom Are Growing. He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said: “Pooh,” he said solemnly, “it isn’t the toes so much as the ears.”

“And I know it seems easy,” said Piglet to himself, “but it isn’t every one who could do it.”

So they left him in it; and Christopher Robin went back to lunch with his friends Pooh and Piglet, and on the way they told him of the Awful Mistake they had made. And when he had finished laughing, they all sang the Outdoor Song for Snowy Weather the rest of the way home, Piglet, who was still not quite sure of his voice, putting in the tiddely-poms again.

When Piglet had finished jumping, he wiped his paws on his front, and said, “What shall we do now?” and Pooh said, “Let’s go and see Kanga and Roo and Tigger,” and Piglet said, “Y-yes. L-lets”—because he was still a little anxious about Tigger, who was a Very Bouncy Animal, with a way of saying How-do-you-do, which always left your ears full of sand, even after Kanga had said, “Gently, Tigger dear,” and had helped you up again.

“Besides, Pooh, it’s a very difficult thing, planting unless you know how to do it,” he said; and he put the acorn in the hole he had made, and covered it up with earth, and jumped on it. “I do know,” said Pooh, “because Christopher Robin gave me a mastershalum seed, and I planted it, and I’m going to have mastershalums all over the front door.” “I thought they were called nasturtiums,” said Piglet timidly, as he went on jumping. “No,” said Pooh. “Not these. These are called mastershalums.”

“Getting Tigger down,” said Eeyore, “and Not hurting anybody. Keep those two ideas in your head, Piglet, and you’ll be all right.”

“I thought,” said Piglet earnestly, “that if Eeyore stood at the bottom of the tree, and if Pooh stood on Eeyore’s back, and if I stood on Pooh’s shoulders——” “And if Eeyore’s back snapped suddenly, then we could all laugh. Ha ha! Amusing in a quiet way,” said Eeyore, “but not really helpful.” “Well,” said Piglet meekly, “I thought——” “Would it break your back, Eeyore?” asked Pooh, very much surprised. “That’s what would be so interesting, Pooh. Not being quite sure till afterwards.”

“After all,” said Rabbit to himself, “Christopher Robin depends on Me. He’s fond of Pooh and Piglet and Eeyore, and so am I, but they haven’t any Brain. Not to notice. And he respects Owl, because you can’t help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn’t spell it right; but spelling isn’t everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn’t count. And Kanga is too busy looking after Roo, and Roo is too young and Tigger is too bouncy to be any help, so there’s really nobody but Me, when you come to look at it. I’ll go and see if there’s anything he wants doing, and then I’ll do it for him. It’s just the day for doing things.”

“I’m telling you. People come and go in this Forest, and they say, ‘It’s only Eeyore, so it doesn’t count.’ They walk to and fro saying ‘Ha ha!’ But do they know anything about A? They don’t. It’s just three sticks to them. But to the Educated—mark this, little Piglet—to the Educated, not meaning Poohs and Piglets, it’s a great and glorious A. Not,” he added, “just something that anybody can come and breathe on.”

Rabbit came up importantly, nodded to Piglet, and said, “Ah, Eeyore,” in the voice of one who would be saying “Good-bye” in about two more minutes.

Eeyore looked at his sticks and then he looked at Piglet. “What did Rabbit say it was?” he asked. “An A,” said Piglet. “Did you tell him?” “No, Eeyore, I didn’t. I expect he just knew.” “He knew? You mean this A thing is a thing Rabbit knew?” “Yes, Eeyore. He’s clever, Rabbit is.”

“I think——” began Piglet nervously. “Don’t,” said Eeyore.

“Do you know what A means, little Piglet?” “No, Eeyore, I don’t.” “It means Learning, it means Education, it means all the things that you and Pooh haven’t got. That’s what A means.”

“What I like best in the whole world is Me and Piglet going to see You, and You saying ‘What about a little something?’ and Me saying, ‘Well, I shouldn’t mind a little something, should you, Piglet,’ and it being a hummy sort of day outside, and birds singing.”

Now one day Pooh and Piglet and Rabbit and Roo were all playing Poohsticks together. They had dropped their sticks in when Rabbit said “Go!” and then they had hurried across to the other side of the bridge, and now they were all leaning over the edge, waiting to see whose stick would come out first. But it was a long time coming, because the river was very lazy that day, and hardly seemed to mind if it didn’t ever get there at all.

“We just came to see you,” said Piglet. “And to see how your house was. Look, Pooh, it’s still standing!” “I know,” said Eeyore. “Very odd. Somebody ought to have come down and pushed it over.” “We wondered whether the wind would blow it down,” said Pooh. “Ah, that’s why nobody’s bothered, I suppose. I thought perhaps they’d forgotten.”

“You only blinched inside,” said Pooh, “and that’s the bravest way for a Very Small Animal not to blinch that there is.”

“What would you do, if your house was blown down?” Before Piglet could think, Pooh answered for him. “He’d come and live with me,” said Pooh, “wouldn’t you, Piglet?” Piglet squeezed his paw. “Thank you, Pooh,” he said, “I should love to.”

And then Piglet did a Noble Thing, and he did it in a sort of dream, while he was thinking of all the wonderful words Pooh had hummed about him. “Yes, it’s just the house for Owl,” he said grandly. “And I hope he’ll be very happy in it.” And then he gulped twice, because he had been very happy in it himself.

Pooh’s side of the room was slowly tilting upwards and his chair began sliding down on Piglet’s. The clock slithered gently along the mantelpiece, collecting vases on the way, until they all crashed together on to what had once been the floor, but was now trying to see what it looked like as a wall.

“It won’t break,” whispered Pooh comfortingly, “because you’re a Small Animal, and I’ll stand underneath, and if you save us all, it will be a Very Grand Thing to talk about afterwards, and perhaps I’ll make up a Song, and people will say ‘It was so grand what Piglet did that a Respectful Pooh Song was made about it.’

“Pooh,” said Owl severely, “did you do that?” “No,” said Pooh humbly. “I don’t think so.” “Then who did?” “I think it was the wind,” said Piglet. “I think your house has blown down.” “Oh, is that it? I thought it was Pooh.” “No,” said Pooh. “If it was the wind,” said Owl, considering the matter, “then it wasn’t Pooh’s fault. No blame can be attached to him.” With these kind words he flew up to look at his new ceiling.

So Pooh hummed it to him, all the seven verses and Piglet said nothing, but just stood and glowed. Never before had anyone sung ho for Piglet (PIGLET) ho all by himself.

“Did I really do all that?” he said at last. “Well,” said Pooh, “in poetry—in a piece of poetry—well, you did it, Piglet, because the poetry says you did. And that’s how people know.”