Disneyland really began when my two daughters were very young. Saturday was always Daddy's Day and I would take them to the merry-go-round, and sit on a bench eating peanuts while they rode. And sitting there alone, I felt there should be something built, some kind of family park where parents and children could have fun together.
I've had years of bizarre hallucinogenic magical experiences in which I believed I had communicated with entities that may well have been disassociated parts of my own personality or conceivably some independent entity of a metaphysical nature. Both would seem equally interesting.
When I was seven, I gave a letter to Cinderella in Disney World asking if I could be in a Disney movie. So, working for Disney was really a childhood dream come true.
I loved going along with Alice Steinbach as she goes off on this rare, wonderful adventure, an escape into discovering herself and some of the truly magical places in this world.
Christmas to a child is the first terrible proof that to travel hopefully is better than to arrive.
I think that magic, at its root, is a very abstract notion. There's no real, approved definition. And, in that sense, it's like love; you can only see magic by the effect it has on people.
When you're touched by magic, nothing's ever quite the same again. What really makes me sad is all those people who never have the chance to know that touch. They're too busy, or they just don't hold with make-believe, so they shut the door without really knowing it was there to be opened in the first place.
Memories and magic is what Christmas is all about.
You can't get anymore classic than being a part of a Disney animated film. To me, that's something I can have in my back pocket for the rest of my life. I'll be able to show it to my kids. I'll be walking around Disneyland, and it'll be bizarre to shake hands with Rapunzel.
Fairy tales had been her first experience of the magical universe, and more than once she had wondered why people ended up distancing themselves from that world, knowing the immense joy that childhood had brought to their lives.
For children, most importantly, being in the garden is something magical.
I totally believe in magic. Because my life, I think, has been very magic, and magical things have come true for me time after time after time.
With the right vibes and the right people, it's easy to create something magical.
Like Woody Allen actually does this a lot in his movies, its kind of called magical realism where he has just kind of an everyday, these kind of everyday experiences and all the sudden something magical or supernatural will come into to and I just, I love that and I think everybody can kind of - everybody wants that at some point in their life.
Ultimately, what we're trying to do for our customers or our guests is create magical travel experiences.
I think the world that I grew up in was like being in this sort of magical artistic garden.
My childhood was such an odd one, but with such magic, and the quirky grown-ups who were in it managed to still bring a huge sense of love and magic, so for that I'm really grateful.
Flying fosters fantasies of childhood, of omnipotence, rapid shifts of being, miraculous moments; it stirs our capacity for dreaming.
It's not a very sane thing to try to be great all the time. You want to make something magical; you want to make something wonderful; you want to give to everybody; you want to heal people; you want to still be inspired. That's not easy.
What was wonderful about childhood is that anything in it was a wonder. It was not merely a world full of miracles; it was a miraculous world.
I definitely believe that you are drawn to certain things for inexplicable reasons, but in a very powerful way. I don't know what it is exactly, but I know that things happen kind of miraculously sometimes, and so I'm willing to believe that there's something pretty magical out there.
Southeast Asia has a real grip on me. From the very first time I went there, it was a fulfillment of my childhood fantasies of the way travel should be.
I would like to go back and spend a Christmas with my family and myself when I was five years old and just see what that dynamic would be like. Observe it. I think it would be a magical gift.
Time always seems long to the child who is waiting - for Christmas, for next summer, for becoming a grownup: long also when he surrenders his whole soul to each moment of a happy day.
I had some friends that went to this hypnotist to stop smoking, and I kind of love things that seem magical. And I liked that it was in Santa Monica, and I had to go near the ocean to get my brain washed out or whatever. So I went there. And I went on a Thursday, and I got hypnotized.
