In many ways, my entire graphic novel career was a long diversion. Originally, all I wanted to do was to be an underground cartoonist and maybe bring out a groovy underground mag.

No. Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise.

There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There's only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof.

Remember, remember the fifth of November of gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gun powder treason should ever be forgot.

It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex. It was Kovacs who closed his eyes. It was Rorschach who opened them again.

Behind this mask there is more than just flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof.

Art is, like magic, the science of manipulating symbols, words or images to achieve changes in consciousness

Once you realize what a joke everything is, being the Comedian is the only thing that makes sense.

You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.

People shouldn't be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people.

If you're functional, it doesn't matter if you're mad.

With the world's fate resting on your shoulder - you're gonna need someone on your side.You can't do it by yourself any longer - you're gonna need someone on your side.

Life demands death to self

baby you light up my world like nobody else

God is speaking. He is, by His nature, continuously articulate. He fills the world with His speaking voice.

Everything I write, I believe instinctively, is to some extent collage. Meaning, ultimately, is a matter of adjacent data.

If you don't know where you're going, you'll wind up somewhere else. Not all those who wander are lost.

I just think racism is within each and every one of us. It's everyone's responsibility to figure out how they deal with this kind of obsolete instinct.

There is no passion, more spectral or fantastical than hate, not even its opposite, love, so peoples air, with phantoms, as this madness of the heart.

Mother Teresa was the very embodiment of saintliness: white-clad, sad-eyed, ascetic and often photographed with the wretched of the earth.

It’s okay to wonder how you could try so hard and still get stomped all over. Just don’t let them change you.