I Think That The So-called Average Person

I Met Robert Crumb In 1962; He Lived In Cleveland For A While. I Took A Look At His Stuff. Crumb Was Doing Stuff Beyond What Other Writers And Artists Were Doing. It Was A Step Beyond Mad.

I Realize That I'm Pretty Flawed, But You Know - I Haven't Killed Anybody Yet.

I Really Don't Have A Lot In Common With The People Who Attend The Comic Con. It's Like Assuming That All People Who Write Prose Are The Same.

Every Ethnic Group Thinks They Are The Chosen Ones.

My Parents' Work Ethic Amazed Me. How Could They Put In Such Long Hours, Day After Day? Part Of The Reason Was To Keep The Family Going - To Keep Me Going. I Realized That, Although We Had Different Values Derived From Different Cultures And Wouldn't Agree On Certain Issues, They Were Good People, Incredible People, And I Loved And Respected Them.