A. A. Milne
A. A. Milne
Alan Alexander "A. A." Milnewas an English author, best known for his books about the teddy bear Winnie-the-Pooh and for various poems. Milne was a noted writer, primarily as a playwright, before the huge success of Pooh overshadowed all his previous work. Milne served in both World Wars, joining the British Army in World War I, and was a captain of the British Home Guard in World War II...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionChildren's Author
Date of Birth18 January 1882
CityHampstead, England
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.
His dress told her nothing, but his face told her things which she was glad to know.
The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh: "I suppose all these people know better than I. It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
Gone out. Backson. Busy backson.
He thought how sad it was to be an Animal who had never had a bunch of violets picked for him.
I did know once, only I've sort of forgotten.
There must be somebody there, because somebody must have said "Nobody.
Christopher Robin ... just said it had an "x."' 'It isn't their necks I mind,' said Piglet earnestly. 'It's their teeth.
James gave the huffle of a snail in danger. And nobody heard him at all.
It was a drowsy summer afternoon, and the Forest was full of gentle sounds, which all seemed to be saying to Pooh, 'Don't listen to Rabbit, listen to me.' So he got in a comfortable position for not listening to Rabbit.
Owl explained about the Necessary Dorsal Muscles. He had explained this to Pooh and Christopher Robin once before and had been waiting for a chance to do it again, because it is a thing you can easily explain twice before anybody knows what you are talking about.
If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever.
I suppose that by this time they had finished their dressing. Roger Scurvilegs tells us nothing on such important matters; no doubt from modesty. "Next morning they rose," he says, and disappoints us of a picture of Udo brushing his hair.
Piglet opened the letter box and climbed in. Then, having untied himself, he began to squeeze into the slit, through which in the old days when front doors were front doors, many an unexpected letter than WOL had written to himself, had come slipping.