The young H.G. Wells was just too damn handsome for me to draw. I painted the lily. And besides being a turn of the 20th century hottie and brilliant, imaginative storyteller, he knew what he was talking about when not writing books:
Affliction comes to us, not to make us sad but sober; not to make us sorry but wise.
Cynicism is humor in ill health.
Crime and bad lives are the measure of a State’s failure, all crime in the end is the crime of the community.
I want to go ahead of Father Time with a scythe of my own.
Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe.
Tonight, I’m drawing Mark Twain. I know I’ll OWN his mug.