I don't see the future as bright, language-wise. I see it as a glass half empty - and evaporating quickly.

I confess, I do have to remind myself almost daily that there are people on this earth capable of reading, writing, eating and dressing themselves who believe their lives are ruled from billions of miles away, by the stars - and, of course, the planets.

I would not ever try to be a show intellectual, which I was accused of doing a while on ABC. I thought you were supposed to read the guests' books.

I don't think anyone ever gets over the surprise of how differently one audience's reaction is from another.

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

If you have a relative who's lost interest in everything and doesn't get out of bed, who doesn't care for things they used to, can't imagine anything that would give them any pleasure, don't fool around with it; get therapy, get help, get medication if that's right for you, or talk therapy, or something.

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