I paint digitally now. A pity, in some ways, as the biggest price one pays is that you no longer have a finished piece of physical art to hang on a wall. I miss that terribly.
BERKELEY BREATHEDSome of us find our lives abridged even before the paperback comes out.
More Berkeley Breathed Quotes
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Liberal, shmiberal. That should be a new word. Shmiberal: one who is assumed liberal, just because he’s a professional whiner in the newspaper.
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A mind is a terrible thing. All this evolution nonsense is making me feel like a complete APE!
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The digital world has allowed me a connection with my reader that I’d never had before. I didn’t meet the people who read my material.
BERKELEY BREATHED -
I don’t get fan mail. It disappeared with the digital revolution.
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That’s the conundrum of cartoon stripping, as opposed to political cartoons. When your anger is the driving force of your drawing hand, failure follows. The anger is OK, but it has to serve the interests of the heart, frankly.
BERKELEY BREATHED -
I ignore Hallmark Holidays. And this comes from a guy who has sold a million Opus greeting cards.
BERKELEY BREATHED -
Harry Potter’ shouldn’t be children’s first experience with suspense and plot turns.
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The universe throws us some obvious little pitches sometimes, and we need to be awake enough not to let them slip by.
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Cartooning is about deconstruction: you gotta tear something down to make a joke.
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It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.
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My kids hear me behind my door, giggling like an idiot, and they roll their eyes at the blatant indignity of it all.
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Doonesbury had the requisite and overwhelming influence in 1980, as it did on any college cartoonist who was paying attention, of course.
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I can say that even in the midst of my most cynical comic stripping: Opus shone through with a bit of heart, anchoring the ugly proceedings with a comforting pull of emotion.
BERKELEY BREATHED -
Dear Lord, I’ve been asked, nay commanded, to thank Thee for the Christmas turkey before us…
BERKELEY BREATHED -
I drew the last image ever of Opus at midnight while Puccini was playing and I got rather stupid. Thirty years. A bit like saying goodbye to a child – which is ironic because I was never, never sentimental about him as many of his fans were.
BERKELEY BREATHED







