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I'm pretty terrible at writing, so the way I kind of therapeutically get through things is by drawing.

When I was a kid, I never felt that what I was drawing really represented me; it was just something I enjoyed.

I wanted very much to learn to draw, for a reason that I kept to myself: I wanted to convey an emotion I have about the beauty of the world.

I draw what I feel, which is no more than doing my job.

Even though I'm usually not conscious of it, I think drawing has always served a sort of therapeutic purpose in my life. There's something about the process of translating the messy chaos of real life into a clean, simple drawing that's always been comforting to me.

I would like to say to children, 'Don't stop drawing. Don't tell yourself you can't draw.' Everyone can draw. If you make a mark on a page, you can draw.

Drawing was a cheap way for me to express myself. It gave a focus to my thinking and my life from a very early age.

As a child I was not allowed to express my feelings, so I had to go back through therapy and express the child's pain.

I cannot recall a period when I did not draw; and at school, the studies that were distasteful to me, mathematics and grammar, were retarded by the indulgence of teachers who were proud of my drawing faculties, and passed over my neglect of uncongenial subjects.

I loved drawing, but I just couldn't do it to the level that some of my friends could. That pulled me up unconsciously because I wanted to be like them, and I wanted to draw.