I grew up in a house that had a whole lot of trouble. As much trouble as you could imagine.

In health we're doing the digestive system. We each got assigned a topic for an oral report. I got the small intestine. I swear to god I hate my life.

I've gotten a lot of livid letters about the awfulness of my work. I've never known what to make of it. Why do people bother to write if they hate what I do?

The strips are nearly effortless unless I am really emotionally upset, a wreck.

I grew up in a house that had a whole lot of trouble. As much trouble as you could imagine.

The only reason we find structure in stories is because it's there naturally in human interaction, and in the way that people tell stories.

Sometimes, I think the only art left for us is slowly peeling the label off a beer bottle while somebody tells you about a dream they had.