There Are People Who Would Love To

My Books Are Not Really Books; Theyre Endless Chains Of Distraction Shoved Inside A Cover. Many Of Them Begin At The Search Box Of Pub Med, An Internet Database Of Medical Journal Articles.

The Point Is That No Matter What You Choose To Do With Your Body When You Die, It Won't, Ultimately, Be Very Appealing. If You Are Inclined To Donate Yourself To Science, You Should Not Let Images Of Dissection Or Dismemberment Put You Off. They Are No More Or Less Gruesome, In My Opinion, Than Ordinary Decay Or The Sewing Shut Of Your Jaws Via Your Nostrils For A Funeral Viewing.

You Do Not Question An Author Who Appears On The Title Page As "t.v.n. Persaud, M.d., Ph.d., D.sc., F.r.c.path. (lond.), F.f.path. (r.c.p.i.), F.a.c.o.g.

The Way I See It, Being Dead Is Not Terribly Far Off From Being On A Cruise Ship. Most Of Your Time Is Spent Lying On Your Back. The Brain Has Shut Down. The Flesh Begins To Soften. Nothing Much New Happens, And Nothing Is Expected Of You.

I Don't Write On Topics That Require A Lot Of Urgency. But In 'stiff,' I Wanted To Change People's Hearts About Organ Donation. Whenever I Get A Chance, I Try To Talk About That.