Children do live in fantasy and reality; they move back and forth very easily in a way we no longer remember how to do.
I never set out to write books for children. I don’t have a feeling that I’m gonna save children or my life is devoted.
Kids don’t know about best sellers. They go for what they enjoy. They aren’t star chasers and they don’t suck up. It’s why I like them.
There’s so much more to a book than just the reading.
We’re supposed to be civilized. We’re supposed to go to work every day. We’re supposed to be nice to our friends and send Christmas cards to our parents.
There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.
I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can’t stop them. They leave me and I love them more.
There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen.
We’re animals. We’re violent. We’re criminal. We’re not so far away from the gorillas and the apes, those beautiful creatures.
Then from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat, so he gave up being king of the wild things.
Peter Rabbit, for all its gentle tininess, loudly proclaims that no story is worth the writing, no picture worth the making, if it is not a work of imagination.
I can’t believe I’ve turned into a typical old man. I can’t believe it. I was young just minutes ago.
Knowledge is the driving force that puts creative passion to work.
You know who my gods are, who I believe in fervently? Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson – she’s probably the top – Mozart, Shakespeare, Keats. These are wonderful gods who have gotten me through the narrow straits of life.
And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.
I write books that seem more suitable for children, and that’s OK with me. They are a better audience and tougher critics. Kids tell you what they think, not what they think they should think.
Oh, please don’t go – we’ll eat you up – we love you so!
My big concern is me and what do I do now until the time of my death. That is valid. That is useful. That is beautiful. That is creative.
And the wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.
You cannot write for children They’re much too complicated. You can only write books that are of interest to them.