...we all labour against our owne cure, for death is the cure of all diseases. There is no Catholicon or universall remedy I know but this, which thogh nauseous to queasie stomachs, yet to prepared appetites is Nectar and a pleasant potion of immortality.
Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, Part II:10
Immediately this brings to mind scenes from George MacDonald's Lilith—the sexton’s house, where sleep is more than sleep, a blessèd balm, the rest of the soul for healing. In that work I experienced a deep longing, a salve, and I felt somehow like I had the innocence and lightness of childhood upon me.
I was going to quote that line to you when ill to cheer you up!
ReplyDeleteHa! Yeah. Do that. I think I already say something of the sort to myself every time I get the flu. :P It's more along the lines of "just shoot me," but... the end result is pretty much the same.
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