Onion Sauce! Onion Sauce!

The Whole Wood Seemed Running Now, Running Hard, Hunting, Chasing, Closing In Round Something Or - Somebody? In Panic, He Began To Run Too, Aimlessly, He Knew Not Whither.

Independence Is All Very Well, But We Animals Never Allow Our Friends To Make Fools Of Themselves Beyond A Certain Limit; And That Limit You've Reached

It's Not The Sort Of Night For Bed, Anyhow.

The Smell Of That Buttered Toast Simply Spoke To Toad, And With No Uncertain Voice; Talked Of Warm Kitchens, Of Breakfasts On Bright Frosty Mornings, Of Cozy Parlour Firesides On Winter Evenings, When One's Ramble Was Over And Slippered Feet Were Propped On The Fender; Of The Purring Of Contented Cats, And The Twitter Of Sleepy Canaries.

All This He Saw, For One Moment Breathless And Intense, Vivid On The Morning Sky; And Still, As He Looked, He Lived; And Still, As He Lived, He Wondered.