Cancer patients are lied to, not just because the disease is (or is thought to be) a death sentence, but because it is felt to be obscene — in the original meaning of that word: ill-omened, abominable, repugnant to the senses.


I don't think makeup is rocket science or a cure for cancer.


I wish I had the voice of Homer to sing of rectal carcinoma.


My veins are filled, once a week with a Neapolitan carpet cleaner distilled from the Adriatic and I am as bald as an egg. However I still get around and am mean to cats.


Nobody knows what the cause is, though some pretend they do; it like some hidden assassin waiting to strike at you. Childless women get it, and men when they retire; it as if there had to be some outlet for their foiled creative fire.


We ''need'' cancer because, by the very fact of its insurability, it makes all other diseases, however virulent, not cancer.