The question was, which would the chemo kill first: the cancer or me?

The idea that anybody was forced, or pressured, or encouraged, is not true.

Nothing goes to waste, you put it all to use, the old wounds and long-ago slights become the stuff of competitive energy.

I don't think anybody else from my generation had federal agents standing at their door with a badge and a gun, saying: 'You are going to answer my questions'.

It can't be any simpler: the farewell is going to be on the Champs-Elysees.

Nobody wants to hear how I think I've been mistreated, or how I think my punishment should be lifted, or tweaked, or reduced. Nobody wants to hear me say that, nobody cares what I think about this. I get it.

I take nothing for granted. I now have only good days, or great days.