The old grey donkey Eeyore stood by himself 
in thistly corner of the Forest, his front 
feet well apart, his head on one side, and 
thought about things. Sometimes he thought 
sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he 
thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought,
"Is as much is which?" and sometimes he didn't 
quite know what he was thinking about.



"Sitting on thistles doesn't do them
any Good.Take all the Life out of them."



"It's not much of a tail, 
but I'm sorta attached to it."