I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.
I guess we're all just wired different. I just got to the point where I got tired of people telling me what I can and can't do in my life.
But again, I put in my time with Marvel and DC so there was that period of my life of trying to learn how to draw and tell stories in a proper fashion.
Once again your mind explodes with a searing pain. A floodgate of memories bursts wide. Yet it is her face that keeps haunting you. Always her face. Who is she? Then things begin to crystallize. You remember your funeral. Begging and pleading for someone to release you from the darkness. You're not dead. You can't be. Then you feel her presence. Warm, caring, soothing. But somewhere deep inside she feels empty now. She has no reason. No meaning. No soul. But your soul lives. While her's is dying.
I'm tired of trying to get other people to see into my brain. I'm done.
If I ever do anything, it actually might be some fantasy elf thing or even some cute, funny thing. Just to do something a little bit out of the ordinary. I've done my superhero gig.
I think people would actually be surprised by what we put out. Unfortunately the shadow that the original founders cast was that they were just artists that can't write books so people swept the whole of Image with that paintbrush.
There be delights that will fetch the day about from sun to sun and rock the tedious year as in a delightful dream. . . For a garden is Arcady brought home. It is man's bit of gaudy make-believe - his well-disguised fiction of an unvexed Paradise. . . a world where gayety knows no eclipse and winter and rough weather are held at bay.
When I lose my marbles which is never, when I lose my energy, I travel the world today for Viacom, China, Turkey, Dubai, Kuwait. When that happens, I'll know enough to retire, but that's never gonna happen. I'm here for forever.
Ingratitude is surely the chief of the intellectual sins of man. He takes his political benefits for granted, just as he takes the skies and the seasons for granted.
But by far the greatest hindrance and aberration of the human understanding proceeds from the dullness, incompetency, and deceptions of the senses; in that things which strike the sense outweigh things which do not immediately strike it, though they be more important. Hence it is that speculation commonly ceases where sight ceases; insomuch that of things invisible there is little or no observation.