I wouldn't necessarily have been making books about how to make comics if I'd really felt I knew how to make comics.

If a comic comes out on the scene and it's really knock-out brilliant, the community is pretty good about getting the word about good newcomers.

Learn from everyone. Follow no one. Watch for patterns. Work like hell.

Art, as I see it, is any human activity which doesn’t grow out of either of our species’ two basic instincts: survival and reproduction.

Today, comics is one of the very few forms of mass communication in which individual voices still have a chance to be heard.

Creator and reader are partners in the invisible creating something out of nothing, time and time again.

Space does for comics what time does for film!

Form and content must never apologize for each other.

There's a very big part of me that just wants to take all of comics history and toss it on the bonfire. I'd sort of like to get on to the future.

The ancestors of printed comics drew, painted and carved their time-paths from beginning to end, without interruption, ... the infinite canvas.

My dad was an engineer and so I had this picture of science and technology and pursuits of the mind as being more impressive than artistic pursuits, which I saw a as kind of frivolous.

Sow good seeds for a bountiful harvest of good fruits.

You do well to have visions of a better life than of every day but it is the life of every day from which the elements of a better life must come.

Charity is a supreme virtue, and the great channel through which the mercy of God is passed onto mankind.

I ate cucumbers and saltines - not because I wanted to look a certain way, but because I was so sad my appetite disappeared.

Personality is a real aphrodisiac, when somebody is charming or funny. I think certain jobs attract certain types of people.

Everything is a gift. The degree to which we are awake to this truth is a measure of our gratefullness, and gratefullness is a measure of our aliveness.

Valentine's Day is the day when you remember that Cupid was a lousy shot.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly-and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

Best masters for the young writer and speaker are the fault- finding brothers and sisters at home who will not spare him, but willpick and cavil, and tell the odious truth.

There is no hope the future will but turn the old sand in the falling glass of time.