If you were to ask me if I'd ever had the bad luck to miss my daily cocktail, I'd have to say that I doubt it; where certain things are concerned, I plan ahead.

If someone were to prove to me- right this minute- that God, in all his luminousness, exists, it wouldn't change a single aspect of my behavior.

In the name of Hippocrates, doctors have invented the most exquisite form of torture ever known to man: survival.

Frankly, despite my horror of the press, I'd love to rise from the grave every ten years or so and go buy a few newspapers.