There is one consolation in being sick; and that is the possibility that you may recover to a better state than you were ever in before.
The motives for being ill often begin to be active even in childhood. A little girl in her greed for love does not enjoy having to share the affection of her parents with her brothers and sisters; and she notices that the whole of their affection is lavished on her once more whenever she arouses their anxiety by falling ill. She has now discovered a means of enticing out her parents’ love, and will make use of that means as soon as she has the necessary psychical material at her disposal for producing an illness.
I think that we’re all mentally ill. Those of us outside the asylums only hide it a little better – and maybe not all that much better after all.
Physicists always publish their researches completely. If our discovery has a commercial future, that is an accident by which we must not profit. And radium is going to be of use in treating disease… It seems to me impossible to take advantage of that.
People love talking of their diseases, although they are the most uninteresting things in their lives.[Человек любит поговорить о своих болезнях, а между тем это самое неинтересное в его жизни…]
Medicine is the restoration of discordant elements; sickness is the discord of the elements infused into the living body.
It is true that we are weak and sick and ugly and quarrelsome but if that is all we ever were, we would millenniums ago have disappeared from the face of the earth.