I Had A Brother Who Was My

I Really Don't Like The City Anymore. You Get Pushed And Harassed And People Grope You. It's Too Tumultuous. It's Too Crazy.

I'd Like To Believe An Accumulation Of Experience Has Made Me A Sort Of A Grown-up Person, So I Can Have Judgment And Taste And Whatever.

And The Wild Things Roared Their Terrible Roars And Gnashed Their Terrible Teeth And Rolled Their Terrible Eyes And Showed Their Terrible Claws.

A Book Is Really Like A Lover. It Arranges Itself In Your Life In A Way That Is Beautiful. Even As A Kid, My Sister, Who Was The Eldest, Brought Books Home For Me, And I Think I Spent More Time Sniffing And Touching Them Than Reading. I Just Remember The Joy Of The Book, The Beauty Of The Binding. The Smelling Of The Interior. Happy.

For My Father The One Calamity Was That My Brother And Sister And I Never Learned To Swim. My Father, Who Was Very Macho, Was A Strong Swimmer And Was Terribly Disappointed To Have Children Who Didn't Swim. Once When My Mother Was Sitting In A Beach Chair - I Can Still See The Big Umbrella - She Called To My Father, "throw Them In! Throw Them In! They'll Swim!" So He Did. Then He Looked Down, And There Were The Three Sendak Children Lying Perfectly Still Underwater, Not Fighting For Life!