And Now," Cried Max, "let The Wild

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

If I Have An Unusual Gift, It's Not That I Draw Particularly Better Than Other People - I've Never Fooled Myself About That. Rather It's That I Remember Things Other People Don't Recall: The Sounds And Feelings And Images - The Emotional Quality - Of Particular Moments In Childhood. Happily An Essential Part Of Myself - My Dreaming Life - Still Lives In The Light Of Childhood.

Once A Little Boy Sent Me A Charming Card With A Little Drawing On It. I Loved It. I Answer All My Children’s Letters — Sometimes Very Hastily — But This One I Lingered Over. I Sent Him A Card And I Drew A Picture Of A Wild Thing On It. I Wrote, “dear Jim: I Loved Your Card.” Then I Got A Letter Back From His Mother And She Said, “jim Loved Your Card So Much He Ate It.” That To Me Was One Of The Highest Compliments I’ve Ever Received. He Didn’t Care That It Was An Original Maurice Sendak Drawing Or Anything. He Saw It, He Loved It, He Ate It.

Make It Dangerous Or It's Not Worth Doing.

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