As A Kid, All I Thought About

The Fan Mail I Get From Kids Are Asking Me Questions Which They Do Not Ask Their Mothers And Fathers. Because If They Had, Why Write To Me, A Perfect Stranger?

I Cry A Lot Because I Miss People. They Die And I Can't Stop Them. They Leave Me And I Love Them More.

I Remember My Own Childhood Vividly...i Knew Terrible Things. But I Knew I Mustn't Let Adults Know I Knew. It Would Scare Them

As A Child, I Felt That Books Were Holy Objects, To Be Caressed, Rapturously Sniffed, And Devotedly Provided For. I Gave My Life To Them. I Still Do. I Continue To Do What I Did As A Child; Dream Of Books, Make Books And Collect Books.

I Wanted To Be Acknowledged As An Artist, Not Just Some Kiddie-book Artist.