There are worlds beyond worlds and times beyond times, all of them true, all of them real, and all of them (as children know) penetrating each other.

More and more I’ve become convinced that the great treasure to possess is the unknown.

With the word creative we stand under a mystery. And from time to time that mystery, as if it were a sun, sends down upon one head or another, a sudden shaft of light - by grace, one feels, rather than deserving, for it always is something given, free, unsought, unexpected.

Once we have accepted the story we cannot escape the story's fate.

Stories are like birds flying, here and gone in a moment.

You do not chop off a section of your imaginative substance and make a book specifically for children, for, if you are honest, you have no idea where childhood ends and maturity begins. It is all endless and all one.

When I was a child, love to me was what the sea is to a fish: something you swim in while you are going about the important affairs of life.