For some reason writing and drawing are very separate processes for me.

I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.

I just have this sort of entrepreneurial spirit and I work really hard at promoting myself.

Was Daedalus really stricken with grief when Icarus fell into the sea? Or just disappointed by the design failure

And partly, the worst thing you could do in my family was need something from someone. So physical strength represented an avenue of self-sufficiency to me.

Even drawing gray hair at all is difficult to render in black and white.

It's a hard thing to age a character because you can't really suddenly give someone gray hair.

If it weren't for the unconventionality of my desires, my mind might never have been forced to reckon with my body.

I'll watch a movie only if it meets the following criteria: 1. It has to have at least two women in it. 2. Who talk to each other. 3. About something besides a man.

It's our very capacity for self-consciousness that makes us self-destructive!

The writing is hard, and the drawing is fun. It's very satisfying to see a drawing start to come together.

Stay away from people who gossip and spread rumors. They are choosing the path of emotional bullying and negativity.

A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.

If you're going to go for 'it' you have a common thing you share with other artists; that's desperation. You jump out a window style-wise. Try to put it together before you hit the ground.

Bobby Martin has another project. He's building a house. He's out there at 6 o'clock in the morning hammering nails.

I support freedom of expression, no matter whose, so I oppose DDoS attacks regardless of their target... they're the poison gas of cyberspace.

If there's a truth and nobody knows it, is it still true? Or is it like a light burning in a locked, shuttered house that nobody will ever get to see?

Like a four-sided porch I'm open to all winds.

Ric Flair is out there crying, his nose is running. He's probably drowning from the size of his nose running.

Is winning the Open worth a million pounds? Well, it's worthwhile winning it - I would recommend it to anybody!

I think because I'm not a parent, my most immediate connection to childhood is my memory of my own childhood.