I wouldn't want to donate my body for scientific study.

Has all the trappings of a mystery novel, doesn't it?

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

He was pushing fifty, with a face life had chewed on, and long wisps of graying hair parted low on one side and combed over his balding pate.

I didn't invent forensic science and medicine. I just was one of the first people to recognize how interesting it is.

I dropped chemistry. I practically blew up the lab in college.

America is the most violent democracy in the world. It's something that's met with great shock, horror, and mystery when I travel to other countries. They ask, Why are there so many shootings in America? Why does everyone own a gun?