You…made…me…faint, i accused him dizzily. what am i going to do with you? he groaned in exasperation. yesterday i kiss you, and you attack me! today you pass out on me! i laughed weakly, letting his arms support me while my head spun. so much for being good at everything, he sighed. that's the problem. i was still dizzy. you're too good. far, far too good.
I am not concerned with simply surviving. I am very concerned about improving. I start each day by examining yesterday's work and looking for areas where i can improve. I am always trying to draw the characters better, and trying to design each panel somewhat in the manner a painter would treat his canvas.
One day old thrashbarg said that almighty bob had declared that he, thrashbarg, was to have first pick of the sandwiches. The villagers asked him when this had happened, exactly, and thrashbarg said it had happened yesterday, when they weren't looking. 'have faith,' old thrashbarg said, 'or burn!' they let him have first pick of the sandwiches. It seemed easiest.
I couldn't have spoken like this yesterday, because when we've been apart, and i'm looking forward to seeing you, every thought is burnt up in a great flame. But then you come; and you're so much more than i remembered, and what i want of you is so much more than an hour or two every now and then, with wastes of thirsty waiting between, that i can sit perfectly still beside you, like this, with that other vision in my mind, just quietly trusting it to come true.