If There's A Buzzing-noise, Somebody's Making A

But [pooh] Couldn't Sleep. The More He Tried To Sleep The More He Couldn't. He Tried Counting Sheep, Which Is Sometimes A Good Way Of Getting To Sleep, And, As That Was No Good, He Tried Counting Heffalumps. And That Was Worse. Because Every Heffalump That He Counted Was Making Straight For A Pot Of Pooh's Honey, And Eating It All. For Some Minutes He Lay There Miserably, But When The Five Hundred And Eighty-seventh Heffalump Was Licking Its Jaws, And Saying To Itself, "very Good Honey This, I Don't Know When I've Tasted Better," Pooh Could Bear It No Longer.

I Knew When I Met You An Adventure Was Going To Happen.

That's Right. You'll Like Owl. He Flew Past A Day Or Two Ago And Noticed Me. He Didn't Actually Say Anything, Mind You, But He Knew It Was Me. Very Friendly Of Him. Encouraging." Pooh And Piglet Shuffled About A Little And Said, "well, Good-bye, Eeyore" As Lingeringly As They Could, But They Had A Long Way To Go, And Wanted To Be Getting On. "good-bye," Said Eeyore. "mind You Don't Get Blown Away, Little Piglet. You'd Be Missed. People Would Say `where's Little Piglet Been Blown To?' -- Really Wanting To Know. Well, Good-bye. And Thank You For Happening To Pass Me.

Well," Said Pooh, "what I Like Best," And Then He Had To Stop And Think. Because Although Eating Honey Was A Very Good Thing To Do, There Was A Moment Just Before You Began To Eat It Which Was Better Than When You Were, But He Didn't Know What It Was Called.

Food Is A Subject Of Conversation More Spiritually Refreshing Even Than The Weather, For The Number Of Possible Remarks About The Weather Is Limited, Whereas Of Food You Can Talk On And On And On.