The fact that cartoons are reproduced doesn't mean anything to me as far as whether they are real art or not.

A friend of mine gave me a very good piece of advice, which is if you don't think your kids are going to want it, don't take it.

I think maybe to survive, I mean to just get through the day - I'm not saying that everything is hilariously funny.

Grime is not like messiness or some fingerprints on a cabinet it takes a long time to accumulate.

You could pray all you want that you have a massive stroke while you're working and die, but possibly that won't happen, and you'll be in this bed, and somebody's going to have to clean you up.

I putter. I nurse old grudges. I fold origami while nursing old grudges. I think about the past. I wonder if there’s any grudges I should start.

I noticed that I used to go to second hand shops and flea markets and find funny, cute things, but now I go into those stores, and I think, This is dead people's stuff. This is all, like, somebody cleaned out their parents' house, and I don't want any of it. If I didn't want it from my parents, I don't want it from your parents.

I had the impression in art school that cartooning was thought of as a lesser art than painting because cartoons are reproduced, so the work is not the single thing like a painting, but instead is the reproduced image.

My life is so boring that your brains are going to melt and come out of your eyes.

I love seeing original cartoons. You get to see the artist's corrections, like erasures or Wite-Out or patches, and you get to see the artist's line in better detail, and what kind of ink they use - whether they like a cold black or a warm black, and what kind of paper they like, how big or small they like to draw - art nerd stuff like that.

It's almost selfishness, taking care of your mental health. You can't just not do it.

I like being able to go grocery shopping and not feel that Im fighting a thousand people.

I always imagined my little cartoons on plates for some reason.

My parents were extremely reluctant. When my father was clearly dying, my mother refused to acknowledge it.