"Mister!" he said with a sawdusty sneeze, "I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues. And I'm asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs" --- he was very upset as he shouted and puffed --- "What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?"

He was shortish. And oldish. And brownish. And mossy. And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy.

The instant I'd finished, I heard a ga-Zump! I looked. I saw something pop out of the stump of the tree I'd chopped down. It was sort of a man. Describe him? ... That's hard. I don't know if I can.

In no time at all, I had built a small shop. Then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one chop. And with great skillful skill and with great speedy speed, I took the soft tuft. And I knitted a Thneed!