I argue with myself, get mad at myself, throw myself around the room and then apologize to myself.

I really have been blessed and fortunate to have accomplished what I have. I hope to do this for a long time. It's such an enjoyable job. I love to do it.

Bonkers doesn't go by the book-he doesn't even know there is a book.

Mr. Bumpy from Bump in the Night was this funky little guy who lived under the bed and thought eating dust bunnies was a delicacy. He was as cool as he could be, and ate dirty socks.

I remember as a kid watching TV and seeing Mel Blanc doing his voices and Paul Winchell doing his ventriloquism and thinking, 'Those guys are having a good time. I want to do that.'

Don Karnage-he's one of my all-time favorites. He's so brash and so bold and so arrogant-and he just doesn't know what he's doing.

Darkwing Duck and Don Karnage are the most fun to do, because they're both probably the closest to me - I kinda improvise a lot of them, kinda ad lib.

Sometimes at drive-thrus I go into Winnie the Pooh and ask for a jar of honey.

I get to be one of the torch-bearers for a new generation.

Sometimes I'll have a brief window of mini-fame thanks to 'Access Hollywood.' But it only lasts a couple of days, and then no one recognizes me anymore.

John Fiedler's voice was kind of like the wind blowing through tall grass. It sounded homey and it sounded comforting.

Worry only wears the body, soul and the spirit.

Better off dead than giving in

One year of life is worth more than twenty years of hibernation.

That was the justice of Heaven. I trust that you are not dismayed.

To be understood a writer has to explain almost everything.

The people you save won't celebrate you. They'll gather the wood and cheer while you burn.

How hard it is to make your thoughts look anything but imbecile fools when you paint them with ink on paper.

When intimacy followed love in Italy there were no longer any vain pretensions between two lovers.

When the face in the mirror doesn’t please you, turn it into a canvas.

O, it's die we must, but it's live we can, And the marvel of earth and sun Is all for the joy of woman and man And the longing that makes them one." (Between the Dusk of a Summer Night, 13-16)