Health is relative. There is no such thing as an absolute state of health or sickness. Everyone's physical, mental, and emotional condition is a combination of both.
Law and order are the medicine of the body politic and when the body politic gets sick, medicine must be administered.
My relationship with my body has changed. I used to consider it as a servant who should obey, function, give pleasure. In sickness, you realise that you are not the boss. It is the other way around.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.
It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.
We Spaniards know a sickness of the heart that only gold can cure.
Life is difficult for everyone; everyone has bad days. Everyone has trouble in their life, because it doesn't matter how rich you are: Sickness and trouble and worry and love, these things will mess with you at every level of life.
Illness is the doctor to whom we pay most heed; to kindness, to knowledge we make promise only; pain we obey.
Prayer is an act of love; words are not needed. Even if sickness distracts from thoughts, all that is needed is the will to love.
When you're cold and unloving, he'll walk through a fire to earn your love, but the second you give your love to him, he'll drag you by your hair, and throw you into the fire. Never show your vulneralbility, instead embody the Seductress.
Better to forget, better to let go of the bitterness. I say bitterness is only good in medicine, or if you fry bitter gourd with egg, then it's dlicious. I told Lan-Lan many times, we have only one life, it's important to kua kwee, to look spaciously. Not keep the eyes so narrowed down to the small dispairs.Those people who say forgive and forget, I say they not right. Not so simple. I say, find right medicine. Bitterness must be just right for problem. Then swallow it, think of good things can do when no longer sick.
Summer-induced stupidity.That was the diagnosis...
Was that really all there was to love? Darkness undone, a hand on your forehead. In the meantime all you could do was wait--tired, alone, the minutes as long or short as a lifetime--for the face in your dream to appear.
Why would you take a drug that is guaranteed to kill you in forty years? One reason, right? It's the only thing that will stop you dying tomorrow.
For this will cure him that is sick, and rouse him that is in dumps; one that has loved, it will remember of it; one that has not, it will instruct. For there was never any yet that wholly could escape love, and never shall there be any, never so long as beauty shall be, never so long as eyes can see. But help me that God to write the passions of others; and while I write, keep me in my own right wits.
and I told myself -- as I've told myself before -- that the body shuts down then the pain gets too bad, that consciousness is temporary, that this will pass. But just like always, I didn't slip away. I was left on the shore with the waves washing over me, unable to drown.
I know positively - yes Rieux I can say I know the world inside out as no one on earth is free from it. And I know too that we must keep endless watch on ourselves lest in careless moment we breathe in somebody's face and fasten the infection on him. What's natural is the microbe. All the rest- health integrity purity if you like - is a product of the human will of vigilance that must never falter. The good man the man who infects hardly anyone is the man who has the fewest lapses of attention. And it needs tremendous will-power a never ending tension of the mind to avoid such lapses. Yes Rieux it's a wearying business being plague-stricken. But it's still more wearying to refuse to be it. That's why everybody in the world today looks so tired everyone is more or less sick of plague. But that is also why some of us who want to get the plague out of their systems feel such desperate weariness a weariness from which nothing remains to set us free except death.
And for all he had learned to bandage himself up on the outside, the wound remained just as bad and deep as the moment it had been made - when it became obvious that the one male he wanted above all others was never, ever going to be with him.
To be too conscious is an illness. A real thorough going illness.
The modern sympathy with invalids is morbid. Illness of any kind is hardly a thing to be encouraged in others.
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