I Remember My Own Childhood Vividly...i Knew

I Did Not Know How To Paint A Mural. I Did Not Know How To Prepare The Surface. There Was Nobody From The Renaissance Around Who Could Advise Me, And I Did The Best I Could.

When Mozart Is Playing In My Room, I Am In Conjunction With Something I Can't Explain... I Don't Need To. I Know That If There's A Purpose For Life, It Was For Me To Hear Mozart.

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

I Think That If In Your Heart, You Are Seeking Out A Real Puzzle, And You're Not Looking To Frighten Anybody, You're Not Looking To Upset Anybody, And You're Looking To Discuss A Subject That You Yourself Went Through When You Were Nine - You Just Don't Remember The Difficulties Of One's Own Childhood.

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!