I didn't have my own journals, but my mother kept a journal while I was in the hospital, and my father wrote newsletters to keep friends and family updated on my progress.

The only problem with seeing people you know is that they know you.

So what does that make you think about God? I think that maybe, if human beings have souls, that maybe their souls are in their eyes. That maybe that's what the color is. Their souls.

I hardly ever think about audience. I just try to tell a story for me. I write the kind of story I would like to read.

Now I'm trying to work outside first person. I do plan to write more books.

I write in a rush of memory.

Limitation is just an "imitation" of the limit. Nothing real, just mindset.

And like a favorite old movie, sometimes the sameness in a friend is what you like the most about her.

Writers block to me is all the voices in your head trying to tune out the one voice that has something worthy say.

I didn't care whether I had gotten dressed, or what state my hair was in or anything– it didn't matter. I felt close to him, and I'd come to regard him as just another part of the scenery.

Sometimes the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you.

I feel like I'm wearing orthopedic shoes, because I stand corrected.

I'm a former Red Sox fan, now fully rehabilitated.

Enlightenment isn't found with a full stomach, or on a soft pillow.

We live because of the dreams.

I'm just a little old cartoonist, tryin' to make a buck.