...And Max, the king of all wild thing was lonely
and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.
Then from far away across the world
he smelled good things to eat
so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.
But the wild things cried, "Oh please don't go -
we'll eat you up - we love you so!"
And Max said, "No!"
The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth
and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws
but Max stepped into hi private boat and waved good bye
and sailed back over a year
and in and out of weeks
and through a day
and into the night of his very own own room
where he found his supper waiting for him
and it was still hot.
At what point did I reach the age when I started to notice how all of the good one's keep dying?