“What day is it?”
“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
“My favorite day,” said Pooh.
Promise me you’ll always remember:
You’re braver than you believe,
and stronger than you seem,
and smarter than you think.
“Sometimes”, said Pooh,
“the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”
How do you spell ‘love’?” – Piglet
“You don’t spell it…you feel it.” – Pooh
Some people care too much.
I think it’s called love.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
If you live to be a hundred,
I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.
Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart,
it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.
A.A. Milne – Winnie the Pooh
Frank Weston Benson – Summer
Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
“Pooh!” he whispered.
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw.
“I just wanted to be sure of you.”
You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you.
You have to go to them sometimes.
Oh, the comfort – the inexpressible comfort of
feeling safe with a person –
having neither to weigh thoughts
nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out,
just as they are,
chaff and grain together;
certain that a faithful hand
will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
and then with the breath of kindness
blow the rest away.
Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another:
“What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”
The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand,
not the kindly smile,
nor the joy of companionship;
it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one
when you discover that someone else believes in you
and is willing to trust you with a friendship.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
A friend is someone
who gives you total freedom to be yourself –
and especially to feel, or not feel.
Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment
is fine with them.
That’s what real love amounts to –
letting a person be what he really is.
When we honestly ask ourselves
which person in our lives means the most us,
we often find that it is those who,
instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures,
have chosen rather to share our pain and
touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
The friend who can be silent with us
in a moment of despair or confusion,
who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement,
who can tolerate not knowing, not curing,
not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness,
that is a friend who cares.