Silas Weir Mitchell Quotes
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Alas, how can we help but mourn When hero bosoms yield their breath! A century itself may bear But once the flower of such a death.
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Medicine is only palliative. For behind disease lies the cause and this cause NO DRUG can reach.
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There are those who suffer and grow strong; there are those who suffer and grow weak. This mystery of pain is still for me the saddest of earth's disabilities.
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Up anchor! Up anchor! Set sail and away! The ventures of dreamland Are thine for a day.
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Death's but one more to-morrow.
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He alone has lost the art to live who cannot win new friends.
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The arctic loneliness of age.
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