Physicians, of all men, are most happy: whatever good success
soever they have, the world proclaimeth and what faults read more

Physicians, of all men, are most happy: whatever good success
soever they have, the world proclaimeth and what faults they
commit, the earth covereth.

One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of
fellowship with other human beings read more

One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of
fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among
them.

And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb,
Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have read more

And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb,
Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in
Capernaum, do also here in thy country.

For of the most High cometh healing.

For of the most High cometh healing.

How the Doctor's brow should smile,
Crown'd with wreaths of camomile.

How the Doctor's brow should smile,
Crown'd with wreaths of camomile.

America's health care system is neither healthy, caring, nor a system.

America's health care system is neither healthy, caring, nor a system.

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their read more

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.

"Is there no hope?" the sick man said,
The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his read more

"Is there no hope?" the sick man said,
The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his leave with signs of sorrow,
Despairing of his fee to-morrow.

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with read more

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
That keep her from her rest.
(Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
(Doctor:) Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
(Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it!