Go into a room where the shutters are always shut (in a sick-room or a bed-room there should never be shutters shut), and though the room be uninhabited-though the air has never been polluted by the breathing of human beings, you will observe a close, musty smell of corrupt air-of air unpurified by the effect of the sun's rays.

When you see the natural and almost universal craving in English sick for their 'tea,' you cannot but feel that nature knows what she is about. ... A little tea or coffee restores them. ... There is nothing yet discovered which is a substitute to the English patient for his cup of tea.

Bismarck was a large persian cat owned by Florence Nightingale.

The craving for 'the return of the day', which the sick so constantly evince, is generally nothing but the desire for light.

The only English patients I have ever known refuse tea, have been typhus cases; and the first sign of their getting better was their craving again for tea.

Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, expectation, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion.

Unnecessary noise is the most cruel abuse of care which can be inflicted on either the sick or the well.