Commonplaces never become tiresome. It is we who become tired when we cease to be curious and appreciative.

I'm not going to be caught around here for any fool celebration. To hell with birthdays!

I used to sit in the studio with a copy of the (Saturday Evening) Post laid across my knees ... And then I'd conjure up a picture of myself as a famous illustrator and gloat over it, putting myself in various happy situations, surrounded by admiring females, deferred to by office flunkies at the magazines, wined and dined by the editor.

I keep the pornographic stuff in a bus station locker.

Everyone in those days expected that art students were wild, licentious characters. We didn't know how to be, but we sure were anxious to learn.

If there was sadness in this creative world of mine, it was a pleasant sadness. If there were problems, they were humorous problems.

No man with a conscience can just bat out illustrations. He's got to put all his talent and feeling into them!