Craig Thompson quotes:

Maybe I'm sad about wanting you. I'm not too comfortable with wanting someone.

Christianity and Islam, they have the same morals, same lifestyle, some of the same stories that shaped them.

After 'Blankets,' I was sick of drawing myself and doing this autobiographical, mundane, Midwestern sort of comics. I wanted to create something bigger than myself and outside myself.

My dad was a plumber, and my mom was on and off again, either a stay-at-home mom or working with the disabled as a visiting-nurse assistant.

Pressed against her I can hear eternity -- hollow, lonely spaces and currents that churn ceaselessly, and the fallen snow welcomes the falling snow with a whispered "Hush"."

Something about being rejected at Church Camp felt so much more awful than being rejected at school.

I grew up in a very working-class family and also a very fundamentalist Christian family. So, we didn't have access to the arts in the house in any form other than the Sunday funnies.

Shame is always easier to handle if you have someone to share it with.

Pressed against her I can hear eternity -- hollow, lonely spaces and currents that churn ceaselessly, and the fallen snow welcomes the falling snow with a whispered "Hush".

Even a mistake is better than nothing.

I grew up in a very fundamentalist, evangelical Christian household. Both my parents were born-again - their faith infused every aspect of my childhood. I'll probably spend most of my life working through that.

Foreign-language books are sometimes more beautiful when you can't tell what's being said. It's like you ruin it by reading.

I'm still down with Jesus. I like to think of him mostly as a social revolutionary who mixed with bad crowds and hated the rich.

I think you can still look to Jesus' word for guidance in your life. It's just not the guidance that it seems like most Christians are applying to their own lives.

I'm really interested in making a mark on a paper and letting that be cursive shorthand for an idea - that's the origin of cartooning.

Most of my Muslim friends are politically liberal in a lot of senses. They are far more open-minded than the Christian circles I grew up in, which are, you know, actually scarier. That said, too, I still identify with the teachings of Jesus. I don't think they resemble or relate to modern-day Christianity.

Except heaven is a hope , and eden is a memory .

On my first visit to the public library, I was like a kid at a candy store where all the candy was free. I gorged myself until my tummy ached.

You have so many layers, that you can peel away a few, and everyone's so shocked or impressed that you're baring your soul, while to you it's nothing, because you know you've twenty more layers to go.

Which is scarier-- lust or temptation?

How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement - no matter how temporary.

You're more than a story.

I love the sea because it is boundless.

and yet I feel that the most real home I'll ever have is the space where our roads merged and traveled along together... for a time.

For what matters if I gain the whole world, but lose my soul?

Right now the day length is exactly the same as in spring when birds key into it and begin singing. The birds are a little confused by it all and the singing isn't very intense. It only lasts a week or so each fall, but it's still cool to hear spring bird songs at this time of the year.

The question is not, could Utah compete week in and week out in the ACC, SEC, Big Ten, whatever, .. The question is, in a one- game setting, can Utah compete, can Utah get the market share, sell the tickets of one of those more familiar institutions. Nobody knows that answer.

At night, lying on your back and staring at the falling snow, it's easy to imagine oneself soaring through the stars.

I wanted a heaven. And I grew up striving for that world-- an eternal world- that would wash away my temporary misery.

Sometimes, upon waking, the residual dream can be more appealing that reality, and one is reluctant to give it up. For a while, you feel like a ghost -- Not fully materialized, and unable to manipulate your surroundings. Or else, it is the dream that haunts you. You wait with the promise of the next dream.

Her lips tarried at mine. Baiting each other with the warmth of our breath, barely grazing, detouring, then connecting.

I was grateful for cereal --- the only food that my tummy, riddled by pangs of infatuation, could handle.