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. — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
At night, lying on your back and staring at the falling snow, it's easy to imagine oneself soaring through the stars. — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement - no matter how temporary. — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
“I promise-ted I'd care up for him downwise 'til the tailend of time.” — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
It's actually easier to do autobiographical stories. The story is already there. It's a matter of carving away what doesn't fit rather than building… — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
On my first visit to the public library, I was like a kid at a candy store where all the candy was free. I… — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
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… — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
“And slowly the snow began to melt. First, doing a number on children's constructions; Then retreating to the foundations of barns and other buildings. Mangy grass poked through the receding snow. Patches of white were swallowed up in the till of the fields. New shapes emerged. Areas of the forest became INACCESSIBLE now that the snow no longer weighed down… — Craig Thompson Copy Share
“And there you have it, Your Highness. Turning a jug of water into gold.” — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
I think there is some overlap in terms of artistic desires and Christian desires. — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
“They say a man's inspiration is visual, but for a woman, it's the narrative. Abandon both the narrative and the visual. Close your eyes, measure your breath. Dead weight is sloughed off, dust swept away, forms dissolve into one atmosphere. The rib cage opens, the lungs fill, the breast rises. Waves sweep up the body on their swell, rocking it… — Craig Thompson Copy Share
I was grateful for cereal --- the only food that my tummy, riddled by pangs of infatuation, could handle. — Craig Thompson Copy Share Image
