The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.
Grief is itself a medicine.
Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.