I like maxims that don't encourage behavior modification.

In the right hands, a comic strip attains a beauty and elegance that, really, I would put against any other art.

It seems like once people grow up, they have no idea what's cool.

I'm not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.

[Calvin, who has the chicken pox, calls Susie on the telephone.] Susie: Hello? Calvin: Hi, Susie! It's me, Calvin! I was wondering if you'd like to come over and play. Susie: Why, sure! Boy, I don't think you've ever invited me to... Calvin's Mom: Calvin, what are you doing? Calvin: Nothing, Mom. Go away. Calvin's Mom: You're contagious! You can't have anyone over to play! Calvin: Shhhh! Shhhh! You'll spoil the whole thing! I was going to trick Susie into catching... HEY! OW! LET GO! Susie: [Hanging up the phone] Any chance of getting transferred, Dad?

I thought my life would seem more interesting with a musical score and a laugh track.

I have all these great genes, but they're recessive. That's the problem here.