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My doctor gave me six months to live, but when I couldn't pay the bill he gave me six months more.

When I was still in my psychiatric residency training in New York City, I was subjected to the doctor draft of that time, during the early fifties, at the time of the Korean War.

I had a serious childhood illness - sort of like spinal meningitis - that led to a three-month hospitalization. Afterward, I couldn't be insured because of a pre-existing condition.

I sent my personal check to the Planned Parenthood of Northern New Jersey. My wife and I do every year.

In the end, they pardoned me and packed me off to a home for the shell-shocked. Shortly before the end of the war, I was discharged a second time, once again with the observation that I was subject to recall at any time.

I did a book signing when we were in New York the day before yesterday. A lady came through and she was just weeping, and said, 'I wish this would have been brought out sooner, my sister is in prison for suffocating her child.'

I sent people to the penitentiary as fast as I could, never thinking about whether they deserved it.

I found myself serving a sentence of public denial from the very second the raid on my apartment happened.

For the last 20 months, I've just been going from one hospital to another.