“Ah, the life of a newspaper cartoonist – how I miss the groupies, drugs and trashed hotel rooms!”

I don’t think you’ve ever invited me to… Calvin’s Mom: Calvin, what are you doing? Calvin: Nothing, Mom. Go away. Calvin’s Mom: You’re contagious! You can’t have anyone over to play!

I asked mom if I was a gifted child. She said they certainly wouldn’t have paid for me.

The secret to enjoying your job is to have a hobby that’s even worse

Reading goes faster if you don’t sweat comprehension.

Scientific Progress goes boink?

At school, new ideas are thrust at you every day. Out in the world, you’ll have to find your inner motivation to seek for new ideas on your own.

[Calvin, who has the chicken pox, calls Susie on the telephone.] Susie: Hello? Calvin: Hi, Susie! It’s me, Calvin! I was wondering if you’d like to come over and play. Susie: Why, sure! Boy,

Calvin: Look, a dead bird! Hobbes: It must’ve hit a window. Calvin: Isn’t it beautiful? It’s so delicate. Sighhh… once it’s too late, you appreciate what a miracle life is.

That’s the whole problem with science. You’ve got a bunch of empiricists trying to describe things of unimaginable wonder.

History is the fiction we invent to persuade ourselves that events are knowable and that life has order and direction. That’s why events are always reinterpreted when values change.

We all have different desires and needs, but if we don’t discover what we want from ourselves and what we stand for, we will live passively and unfulfilled.

You can drag my body to school but my spirit refuses to go.

That’s the difference between me and the rest of the world. Happiness isn’t good enough for me! I demand euphoria!

There is not enough time to do all the nothing we want to do.

At that time, we turn around and say, yes, this is obviously where I was going all along. It’s a good idea to try to enjoy the scenery on the detours, because you’ll probably take a few.

Ms. Wormwood: Calvin, can you tell us what Lewis and Clark did? Calvin: No, but I can recite the secret superhero origin of each member of Captain Napalm’s Thermonuclear League of Liberty.

I’m not conniving – that has a pejorative context. I’m not sitting in back rooms making deals. That’s not my style.

And I like messing around in the engine room of music. Seeing what happens in the rhythm section area.

As we’re staggering out of the hospital, I don’t remember doing this because I was still high, but apparently I turned to the entire operating room staff and screamed “Hey! I’d better not see this on YouTube!”

I love everything about motels. I can’t help myself. I still get excited every time I slip a key into a motel room door and fling it open.

We are the outcasts, we are the ones that are different, we are the ones that never got along with anyone else, we are the ones that went back to our rooms and put on our headphones and listened to those records that made us happy

I’m not into smoke-filled rooms. I don’t have the time for byzantine political intrigues.

I’m just the least funny person in a room full of funny people, which is basically every single day of work for me.

The click [of a light switch] is the modern triumphal clarion proceeding us through life, announcing our entry into every lightless room.