Nothing Echoes Like An Empty

When They [visitors To His Studio:] Learn About The Six-week Daily-strip Deadline And The 12-week Sunday-page Deadline, A Visitor Almost Never Fails To Remark: "gee, You Could Work Real Hard, Couldn't You, And Get Several Months Ahead And Then Take The Time Off?" Being, As I Said, A Slow Learner, It Took Me Until Last Year To Realize What An Odd Statement That Really Is. You Don't Work All Of Your Life To Do Something So You Don't Have To Do It.

Though Her Husband Often Went On Business Trips, She Hated To Be Left Alone. "i've Solved Your Problem," He Said. "i've Bought You A St. Bernard. Its Name Is Great Reluctance. Now, When I Go Away, You Shall Know That I Am Leaving You With Great Reluctance!" She Hit Him With A Waffle Iron.

I Think Anybody Who Is Writing Finds He Puts A Little Bit Of Himself In All Of The Characters, At Least In This Kind Of A Strip. It's The Only Way That You Can Survive When You Have To Do Something Every Day. You Have To Put Yourself, All Of Your Thoughts, All Of Your Observations And Everything You Know Into The Strip.

Maybe I Can Put It Another Way... Life, Charlie Brown, Is Like A Deck Chair." "like A What?" "have You Ever Been On A Cruise Ship? Passengers Open Up These Canvas Deck Chairs So They Can Sit In The Sun... Some People Place Their Chairs Facing The Rear Of The Ship So They Can See Where They've Been... Other People Face Their Chairs Forward... They Want To See Where They're Going! On The Cruise Ship Of Life, Charlie Brown, Which Way Is Your Deck Chair Facing?" "i've Never Been Able To Get One Unfolded.

You Can't Survive By Sucking The Juice From A Wet Mitten.