My post-child period resulted in one instant change: I write shorter books for kids.

Dear Lord, I've been asked, nay commanded, to thank Thee for the Christmas turkey before us... a turkey which was no doubt a lively, intelligent bird... a social being... capable of actual affection... nuzzling its young with almost human- like compassion. Anyway, it's dead and we're gonna eat it. Please give our respects to its family.

It was a huge challenge to learn digital painting well enough so that computers don't pop into mind when one sees one.

Irony can elude the genius among us, sometimes.

I'd be a Libertarian, if they weren't all a bunch of tax-dodging professional whiners.

I could draw Bloom County with my nose and pay my cleaning lady to write it, and I'd bet I wouldn't lose 10% of my papers over the next twenty years. Such is the nature of comic-strips. Once established, their half-life is usually more than nuclear waste.

I will go to my grave in a state of abject endless fascination that we all have the capacity to become emotionally involved with a personality that doesn't exist.