Maurice Sendak has passed away.
Let the rumpus start.
May he rest not in peace, but in some wild, affectionate place, where the monsters are his friends and he is their king.
May he continue to roar his terrible roars
and gnash his terrible teeth
and roll his terrible eyes
and show his terrible claws.
The world has eaten him up, it loved him so.
He has gone into the night of his very own room;
I hope his supper is waiting for him
and that it still hot.