“Sendak is in search of what he calls a "yummy death". William Blake set the standard, jumping up from his death bed at the last minute to start singing. "A happy death," says Sendak. "It can be done." He lifts his eyebrows to two peaks. "If you're William Blake and totally crazy.”

“(about William Blake)As for Blake's happiness--a man who knew him said: "If asked whether I ever knew among the intellectual, a happy man, Blake would be the only one who would immediately occur to me."And yet this creative power in Blake did not come from ambition. ...He burned most of his own work. Because he said, "I should be sorry if I had any earthly fame, for whatever natural glory a man has is so much detracted from his spiritual glory. I wish to do nothing for profit. I wish to live for art. I want nothing whatever. I am quite happy."...He did not mind death in the least. He said that to him it was just like going into another room. On the day of his death he composed songs to his Maker and sang them for his wife to hear. Just before he died his countenance became fair, his eyes brightened and he burst into singing of the things he saw in heaven. ”

“Death to you, William of Mercia”

“(about William Blake)[Blake] said most of us mix up God and Satan. He said that what most people think is God is merely prudence, and the restrainer and inhibitor of energy, which results in fear and passivity and "imaginative death."And what we so often call "reason" and think is so fine, is not intelligence or understanding at all, but just this: it is arguing from our *memory* and the sensations of our body and from the warnings of other people, that if we do such and such a thing we will be uncomfortable. "It won't pay." "People will think it is silly." "No one else does it." "It is immoral."But the only way you can grow in understanding and discover whether a thing is good or bad, Blake says, is to do it. "Sooner strangle an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires."For this "Reason" as Blake calls it (which is really just caution) continually nips and punctures and shrivels the imagination and the ardor and the freedom and the passionate enthusiasm welling up in us. It is Satan, Blake said. It is the only enemy of God. "For nothing is pleasing to God except the invention of beautiful and exalted things." And when a prominent citizen of his time, a logical, opining, erudite, measured, rationalistic, Know-it-all, warned people against "mere enthusiasm," Blake wrote furiously (he was a tender-hearted, violent and fierce red-haired man): "Mere enthusiasm is the All in All!”

“After Blakely delivered that infamous and muchrepeated set down, he transferred his gaze to the newMarchioness of Blakely.She shook her head, once. Firmly. “Gareth,” she said dryly. “It is your sister’s wedding day. Behave.”Silence. He’d lifted his chin, in typical Blakely arrogance.The crowd waited for the blast.And then Lord Blakely shrugged and grinned helplessly.Grinned. Helpless. A Blakely.“Oh,” said his sister, from where she stood near him. “Isthat how it’s done? I’ll have to practice that.”Like that, everything society knew about nine generations of Blakelys went up in smoke.Since that day, there had been no question. Lady Blakely had been granted otherworldly powers at birth.Every smile she coaxed from him, every laugh that she surprised from his lips, stood as testament to her arcane abilities.And those that questioned her worth still had only to see the look in his eyes when he watched her to find all theproof they required.”

“Tennessee Williams choked to death on the plastic cap of a nasal spray.”