harlie Brown’s unrequited love rarely made him explode. Implode, yes. But one of the things that created such sympathy for the poor fella was his tender heart, resigned as it was to disappointment. His little sister, however, did not go gentle into that good night, morning, or afternoon. The Sundays gave Schulz the opportunity to fill his speech balloons with biting text, and Sally’s self-recrimination in the face of a placid Linus is perfectly executed.
Also, this is the strip from the day I was born.