..and Only Sticks And Stones Can Break

What Actually Happens When You Die Is That Your Brain Stops Working And Your Body Rots, Like Rabbit Did When He Died And We Buried Him In The Earth At The Bottom Of The Garden. And All His Molecules Were Broken Down Into Other Molecules And They Went Into The Earth And Were Eaten By Worms And Went Into The Plants And If We Go And Dig In The Same Place In 10 Years There Will Be Nothing Exept His Skeleton Left. And In 1,000 Years Even His Skeleton Will Be Gone. But That Is All Right Because He Is A Part Of The Flowers And The Apple Tree And The Hawthorn Bush Now.

I Started Writing Books For Children Because I Could Illustrate Them Myself And Because, In My Innocence, I Thought They'd Be Easier.

As A Teenager, I Was Always This Strange Mixture Of Kind Of Vice-captain Of The Rugby Team And Sensitive Artist Type The Rest Of The Time. I Was Sent Away To This Public School In The Middle Of Nowhere, And I Think We Managed To Completely Miss Out On Normal Youth Culture.

Indeed, I Am Repeatedly Astonished By The Number Of Really Good Writers Who Understand Human Beings So Well On Paper But Don't Know How To Deal With Them In Real Life.

For Me, Disability Is A Way Of Getting Some Extremity, Some Kind Of Very Difficult Situation, That Throws An Interesting Light On People.