I grew up in Los Angeles and always wished I’d spent a childhood in a far different place.
BERKELEY BREATHEDI don’t get fan mail. It disappeared with the digital revolution.
More Berkeley Breathed Quotes
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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.
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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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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.
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Steve Dallas…a frat-boy lawyer who I knew in school. He’s never written me. I suspect he was shot by an annoyed girlfriend, which has saved me many legal fees.
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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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A mind is a terrible thing. All this evolution nonsense is making me feel like a complete APE!
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I ignore Hallmark Holidays. And this comes from a guy who has sold a million Opus greeting cards.
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And just as it is with all proper grannies, she ordered me into my pink bunny jammies.
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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.
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I knew ‘Mars Needs Moms! ‘ would be a movie seconds after the title came to mind. Similarly, I also knew that my daughter would be calling me a dork as a default term of endearment eventually.
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It was a huge challenge to learn digital painting well enough so that computers don’t pop into mind when one sees one.
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I could draw Bloom County with my nose and pay my cleaning lady to write it, and I’d bet I wouldn’t lose 10% of my papers over the next twenty years. Such is the nature of comic-strips. Once established, their half-life is usually more than nuclear waste.
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I was never asked to join the Editorial Cartoonists Of America. No fraternity would have me in college, either. I think they know something.
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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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He comic page is dying; I didn’t want to go with it.
BERKELEY BREATHED