It is a terrible thing for an author to have a lot of people running about his book without any invitation from him at all.
Interpretation
An author values control over their work and may feel discomfort when others interpret or interact with it without permission.
A. A. Milne highlights the intense connection authors have with their creations, emphasizing that a book is a personal expression and can evoke feelings of violation or unease when it is engaged with in unexpected ways by others. This quote underlines the struggle between an artist's desire for audience engagement and the fear of misinterpretation or unauthorized intrusion.
In practice
During a writing workshop, to express the importance of artistic ownership.
And how are you?" said Winnie-the-Pooh. Eeyore shook his head from side to side. "Not very how," he said. "I don't seem to have felt at all how for a long time." "Dear, dear," said Pooh, "I'm sorry about that. Let's have a look at you.
Piglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful that he forgot to be frightened any more, and when Rabbit went on to say that Kangas were only Fierce during the winter months, being at other times of an Affectionate Disposition, he could hardly sit still, he was so eager to begin being useful at once.
Time is swift, it races by; Opportunities are born and die... Still you wait and will not try - A bird with wings who dares not rise and fly.
Did I miss?" you asked. "You didn't exactly miss," said Pooh, "But you missed the balloon." "I'm so sorry," you said, and you fired again, and this time you hit the balloon and the air came slowly out, and Winnie-the-Pooh floated down to the ground.
Come, come, come. Without a monster or two it's not a quest, merely a gaggle of friends wandering about.
Friendship," said Christopher Robin, "is a very comforting thing to have.
Why are all the artists so dead-set on distorting? It seems to be a reaction against photography, but I'm not sure.
I am never going to write for the sake of writing.
After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own. Music always seems to me to produce that effect. It creates for one a past of which one has been ignorant, and fills one with a sense of sorrows that have been hidden from oneβs tears.
What are our conductors giving us year after year? Only fresh corpses. Over these beautifully embalmed sonatas, toccatas, symphonies and operas the public dance the jitterbug. Night and day without let the radio drowns us in a hog-wash of the most nauseating, sentimental ditties. From the churches comes the melancholy dirge of the dead Christ, a music which is no more sacred than a rotten turnip.
It is true that there are few plays of Shakespeare that I haven't done.
I know that one of the great arts that the writer develops is the art of saying, 'No. No, I'm finished. Bye.' And leaving it alone. I will not write it into the ground. I will not write the life out of it. I won't do that.
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