We’re Sunday Comics, man, for Nigel; we only want what’s best for him/We’re Sunday Comics, man, for Nigel, Nigel approves of Commons’ art. And if young Nigel says he’s happy, he must be happy — he must be happy in his world.

Everywhere I go it’s Sunday, with Comics far away; and my heart belongs to no one, so now sometimes I pray: “Take the space between us, fill it up some way…Fill it up, fill it up.”

It really doesn’t matter, if I’m wrong I’m right where I belong. I’m right where I belong. See the Sunday Comics there? You’ll disagree and never win, and wonder why you won’t get in my door. I’m painting my room in the colorful way, and…

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp! And Sunday Comics mine! And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Cold winds are howling, or could that be growling? Sunday Comics drawn…My-my, oh me-my, kindly will you reply: Is that you, Santa Claus?

Nathalie Rosa Bucher explores the graphic journalism of the Middle East.

Sunday Comics: One mans waste is another mans soap, sons fan base know the brotha man’s dope. A real weirdo with a bug rare flow and the way his hair grow was ugly as a scarecrow. He wears a mask so the charge won’t grab…

Everybody needs a change, a chance to check out the new. But you’re the only one to read new Comics that drop Sundays true! Don’t you worry ’bout a thing, cuz we will have all these to read when you check them out.

Es el tiburón que duerme Sunday, es el tiburón que lee los Comics/Es el tiburón que va asechando, es el tiburón de mala suerte/¿Tiburón que busca en la orilla? ¡Tiburón, lo tuyo es mar afuera!

Those who have seen the needle’s eye now tread like a husk from which all that was — now has fled. And the masks that the monsters wear to feed upon their prey…Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved, the Sunday Comics forever.