When you have snowflakes in the clouds in the sky and you have mountains, you get snow. That's how it works.

The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.

'I'm not beautiful, I'm pretty!' (Angrily at age 2 and a half. After getting into his sister's toy makeup case and being called beautiful...)

'A duck!... A baby duck.' (Squealing about a birthday card on her third birthday on Puerta Vallarta, Mexico.

“I wasn't yawning, I was just letting some fresh air into my mouth.” (After being accused of being tired.)