Perhaps creativity is fumbling that dance step, or driving the chisel the wrong way into the stone.

I showed the grown ups my maasterpiece, andI asked them if my drawing scared them. They answered why be scared of a hat? My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant.

He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.

You cannot plant an acorn in the morning, and expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of an oak.

I was too young to know how to love her.

Only the children know what they are looking for. They waste their time over a rag doll and it becomes very important to them; and if anybody takes it away from them, they cry.

But certainly, for us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference.