Perhaps the saddest irony of depression is that suicide happens when the patient gets a little better and can again function sufficiently.

I have a long list of things that make me mad.

Every time someone says, 'You know, we really ought to get together,' if I were really honest, I would ask 'Why?'

Statistically, I'd say comedy writers are perhaps the sanest category of show people. And why not? They make big money, and although it's not an easy trade - particularly when you're at your galley oar five days a week - it's easier on the nerves and the psyche than living with the brain-squeezing pressure and cares of being the Star.

Does anything show the complexity of the miraculous brain more than that weird curiosity, the sleep-protection dream?

Great humorists are great insulters.

The sudden death at 51 of James Gandolfini is intolerable.