His death had been as futile as his life. He died ingloriously, of a stupid disease, failing once more, even at the end, to accomplish anything.
I, the dreamer clinging yet to the dream as the patient clings to the last thin unbearable ecstatic instant of agony in order to sharpen the savor of the pain's surcease, waking into the reality, the more than reality, not to the unchanged and unaltered old time but into a time altered to fit the dream which, conjunctive with the dreamer, becomes immolated and apotheosized
Bad health is the primary reason for all life. Created by disease, within putrefaction, into decay
Am I not as much a doctor as they? I too have my patients; in the first place, theirs, whom they call sick; and then my own, whom I call unfortunate.
This is the shade of meaning: the door of a physician should never be closed; the door of a priest should always be open.
A man's concern, even his despair, over the worthwhileness of life is an existential distress but by no means a mental disease.
Moist was sure doctors keep skeletons around to cow patients. Nyer, nyer, we know what you look underneath ...
And for its part, what was life? Was it perhaps only an infectious disease of matterùjust as the so-called spontaneous generation of matter was perhaps only an illness, a cancerous stimulation of the immaterial?
All around the dining hall, you can feel the rejuvenating effect that a good meal can bring on. The way it can make people kinder, funnier, more optimistic, and remind them it's not a mistake to go on living. It's better than any medicine.
You can't believe that AIDS is a curse from God against Gays without accepting that Lyme Disease is a curse from the same God against Deer Hunters...
Happy and sad, elated and miserable, secure and afraid, loved and denied, patient and angry, peaceful and wild, complete and empty...all of it. I would feel everything. It would all be mine.
Hahnji, mister, you must be patient. Before you can name that corner, our future must become past.
We have a name for your disease. We call it a hyper-aesthetic one. You have been encouraged to over-indulge yourself in literature; and have inflamed your organs of fancy.
Just my luck, on top of everything else I had to take baboon medicine.
It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.
Owls are wise. They are careful and patient. Wisdom precludes boldness. That is why owls make poor heroes.
Tania, there is so much still ahead of you. Be patient with life
He meant the Kingdom was over, the Kingdom of Heaven, it was all finished. We shouldn't live as if it mattered more than this life in this world, because where we are is always the most important place.... We have to be all those difficult things like cheerful and kind and curious and patient, and we've got to study and think and work hard, all of us, in all our different world, and then we'll build... The Republic of Heaven.
Oliver . . . well. Who knew if Oliver's problem was the disease or just a bad attitude?
A good night sleep, or a ten minute bawl, or a pint of chocolate ice cream, or all three together, is good medicine.
I've been doing this a long time, and I've come to learn that predictions don't mean much. Too much lies outside the realm of medical knowledge. A lot of what happens next comes down to you and your specific genetics, your attitude. No, there's nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, but that's not the point. The point is that you should try to make the most of the time you have left.
Sometimes a light glimmered out of the physician's eyes, burning blue and ominous, like the reflection of a furnace, or, let us say, like one of those gleams of ghastly fire that darted from Bunyan's awful doorway in the hill-side, and quivered on the pilgrim's face.
The thing about the heart was that you could not coax it or force it, as you could any other disease. Will power meant nothing.
It's up to brave hearts, sir, to be patient when things are going badly, as well as being happy when they're going well ... For I've heard that what they call fortune is a flighty woman who drinks too much, and, what's more, she's blind, so she can't see what she's doing, and she doesn't know who she's knocking over or who she's raising up.
Though the industrial logic that made feeding cattle to cattle seem like a good idea has been thrown into doubt by mad cow disease, I was surprised to learn it hadn't been discarded. The FDA ban on feeding ruminant protein to ruminants makes an exception for blood products and fat; my steer will probably dine on beef tallow recycled from the very slaughterhouse he's heading to in June.
Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.
His was the disease we couldn't cure. His was the good-bye that meant the most
I turned back to my extracurricular study of death and disease. Because no matter what Grace thought, I knew that in Mercy Falls, it's never over
You were patient, but I worried that your very patience tempted Kevin to try it.
It made Fire so angry, the thought of such a medicine, a violence done to herself to stop her from creating anything like herself. And what was the purpose of these eyes, this impossible face, the softness and the curves of this body, the strength of this mind; what was the point, if none of the men who desired her were to give her any babies, and all it ever brought her was grief? What was the purpose of a woman monster?