I got into underground comics fairly early on and kind of wandered away from the superhero stuff, but I was an art student and I was drawing a lot as a kid.

Someday I would change my name to Shut Up and save everybody a lot of time.

There's something about the rhythms of language that correspond to the rhythms of our own bodies.

The book is openly a kind of spiritual autobiography, but the trick is that on any other level it's a kind of insane collage of fragments of memory.

I never have been a musician; I'm not actually capable. Because I can't even pretend to acquire the gift, all of my first feelings about art are still attached to music. I look at it yearningly, I look at it wonderingly. I behold it from afar, as something unattainable, something outside of myself, from which I can take nourishment, but I can't domesticate and master.

Writing is a private discipline, in a field of companions.

Apologies aren't something you want to get in the habit of practicing in the mirror