I Hadn't Even Been Looking,

I Can't Think Of A Story That Doesn't Have Something Terrible In It. Otherwise, It's Dull. So When I Embarked Into The World Of Picture Books, My First Thought Was To Do Something About The Dark.

Whenever You Are Examining Someone Else's Belongings, You Are Bound To Learn Many Interesting Things About The Person Of Which You Were Not Previously Aware.

The Violins Waltzed. The Cellos And Basses Provided Accompaniment. The Violas Mourned Their Fate, While The Concertmaster Showed Off. The Flutes Did Bird Imitations…repeatedly, And The Reed Instruments Had The Good Taste To Admire My Jacket. The Trumpets Held A Parade In Honor Of Our Great Nation, While The French Horns Waxed Nostalgic About Something Or Other. The Trombones Had Too Much To Drink. The Percussion Beat The Band, And The Tuba Stayed Home Playing Cards With His Landlady, The Harp, Taking Sips Of Warm Milk A Blue Little Cup. “but The Composer Is Still Dead.

What Happens In A Certain Place Can Stain Your Feelings For That Location, Just As Ink Can Stain A White Sheet. You Can Wash It, And Wash It, And Still Never Forget What Has Transpired - A Word Which Here Means 'happened, And Made Everybody Sad'.

Your Initial Opinion On Just About Anything May Change Over Time.