I just met someone who read Gone With the Wind 62 times for exactly that same reason. She couldn't bear that it wasn't real. She wanted to live in it.

Sometimes I wish the writing and drawing were more integrated.

Mostly it was Mad magazine. And I did read a lot of - I had a subscription when I was little, but I also had access to some old collections, the little paperbacks of the really good stuff.

I grew to resent the way my father treated his furniture like children, and his children like furniture.

What would happen if we spoke the truth?

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

I don't know, maybe it's because I was raised Catholic. Confession has always held a great appeal for me.