I find it difficult to attend autopsies. Especially the smells.

Even if you are a best-seller you feel insecure because it is all so unpredictable.

In my forties, my optimism was boundless. I had really good health and tremendous success which allowed me to do anything I wanted.

The dead have never bothered me. It's the living that I fear.

I stop working at about 3 p.m. on Fridays.

And suddenly the world was filled with wooden faces and flat voices - and, you were alone.

I hate the term "mystery". That's not what I write. I think the Scarpetta novels are much more character-driven than an average puzzle solver. Writing should be like a pane of glass - there's another world on the other side and your vision carries you there, but you're not aware of having passed through a barrier to get there.