Alack Our Life, So Beautiful To See,

Sameness Is The Mother Of Disgust, Variety The Cure.

Love Is The Crowning Grace Of Humanity.

Death Is A Sleep That Ends Our Dreaming. Oh, That We May Be Allowed To Wake Before Death Wakes Us.

Who Naught Suspects Is Easily Deceived.

If A Hundred Or A Thousand People, All Of The Same Age, Of The Same Constitution And Habits, Were Suddenly Seized By The Same Illness, And One Half Of Them Were To Place Themselves Under The Care Of Doctors, Such As They Are In Our Time, Whilst The Other Half Entrusted Themselves To Nature And To Their Own Discretion, I Have Not The Slightest Doubt That There Would Be More Cases Of Death Amongst The Former, And More Cases Of Recovery Among The Latter.