The Public Only Takes Up

At All Costs The True World Of Childhood Must Prevail, Must Be Restored; That World Whose Momentous, Heroic, Mysterious Quality Is Fed On Airy Nothings, Whose Substance Is So Ill-fitted To Withstand The Brutal Touch Of Adult Inquisition.

Youth Is Certain What It Rejects Before It Knows What It Will Accept.

Poets Don't Draw. They Unravel Their Handwriting And Then Tie It Up Again, But Differently.

Every Day In The Mirror I Watch Death At Work.

There Are Too Many Souls Of Wood Not To Love Those Wooden Characters Who Do Indeed Have A Soul.