The Job Of The Artist Is To

We Come From Long Lines Of People Destined Never To Meet.

When You're Not Doing Fiction, There's A Limit To How Much Illustrating You Can Do With Your Work. I Mean, You Can Do Fine. There Are Great Non-fiction Writers, But People Aren't Necessarily Going To Say Anything That Reveals Them As Much As A Picture Might. Even Their Surroundings, In Lot Of Cases, The Things That Meant The Most To Me Were The Things I Noticed In Their Houses. I Was Always Looking, As Much As I Was Listening To Them. I Was Looking Around For Clues As To Why I Was There.

Where Do We Come From? Do Souls Really Exist? I Can't Answer These Questions, Especially Not At 6am.

All I Ever Really Want To Know Is How Other People Are Making It Through Life—where Do They Put Their Body, Hour By Hour, And How Do They Cope Inside Of It.

If You Are Sad, Ask Yourself Why You Are Sad. Then Pick Up The Phone And Call Someone And Tell Him The Answer To The Question. If You Don't Know Anyone, Call The Operator And Tell Him. Most People Don't Know That The Operator Has To Listen, It Is A Law. Also, The Postman Is Not Allowed To Go Inside Your House, But You Can Talk To Him On Public Property For Up To Four Minutes Or Until He Wants To Go, Whichever Comes First.