20 September 1984: ". . . I am listening to Mozart's Requiem . . . and it chills me. Perhaps it is supposed to. And at night, when I get back late from rehearsal, I am reading . . . 'The Name of the Rose' by Umberto Eco. I never read best sellers but this is about a monastery . . . .
. . . I suffer from sinking spirits--there is so much nonsense-bullshit going on here--Little gangs of people working against Little gangs of people. And hostility--not directed at me but rather at my poor composer friend who has not yet finished his score for Higglety Pigglety Pop! . . . My sets, at this stage, look very fine. I went off here & there & I must repair, but there is time. . . ."
15 November 1985: ". . . I draw & draw & even with a dreadful headcold, sleep well & deep. I am, simply--happy."
3 February 1988: ". . . If the insecure kid in you rises up & disturbs you, nail him in a story! That is the only victory that works for me.
". . . [A]s you can probably tell from this ugly scrawl, my handwriting is all fucked up. This is the first day . . . that I can use my fingers in almost 2 weeks. A hideous breakout of tendonitis in both hands left me actually crippled. . . . [F]ear of losing the best we have is a tangible, hideous torture. But that is only because I love too hard. If the price of love is terror--well, so be it. . . ."
1 September 1989: ". . . I am going on a trip--Sweden & Scotland--for 2 weeks, to recover, see pictures, meet Ingmar Bergman (maybe--for Peter Pan) & get laid. Maybe. . . ."
1 August 1993: ". . . [I]t has been a profound time. I have been shaken to my roots & am only now reaching back. Too many friends died & one of them, James Marshall--the best of artists & writers & the best colleague--my oldest & dearest. With him went any real connection to the book business. I stayed close to him & was with him to the end. . . . A wild old man I am--ful of a peculiar rage & energy. . . . A new book coming out in Sept. [We Are All in the Dumps with Jack and Guy]. You will see it all in that odd little book. . . ."
January 2004: ". . . After 3 years of wonderful drudgery my 75 year old bones demand time out. So, I shall retreat for a bit--good books--cheap sexy T.V. & much needed sleep. . . ."
with--Two photocopies of Sendak's screenplay, Very Far Away, a first and a revised draft, 1985.