In the morning I would go to his room, where he would hold court in his bed. My brother Tony and I would curl up with him and draw and talk about our plans for the day. But we found he was more inclined towards what was adult in children than what was childish in children. Because of his intellect, he didn't suffer fools gladly.
Once at the dinner table, the subject of van Gogh came up. I said somewhat flippantly that I didn't like van Gogh. "You don't like van Gogh?" he countered. "Then name six of his paintings and tell me why you don't like them." I couldn't, of course. And he said, "Leave the room, and until you know what you're talking about, don't come back with your opinions to the dinner table."