In the name of Hippocrates doctors have invented the most exquisite form of torture ever known to man: survival.

Be temperate in wine, in eating, girls, and sloth, or the Gout will seize you.

You can’t find the soul with a scalpel.

To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.

Health indeed is a precious thing, to recover and preserve which we undergo any misery, drink bitter potions, freely give our goods—restore a man to his health, his purse lies open to thee.

No families take so little medicine as those of doctors, except those of apothecaries.

If a patient is poor, he is committed to a public hospital as “psychotic”; if he can afford the luxury of a private sanitarium, he is put there with the diagnosis of “neurasthenia”; if he is wealthy enough to be isolated in his own home under constant watch of nurses and physicians, he is simply an indisposed “eccentric.”

Physician, heal yourself: thus you help your patient too. Let his best help be to see with his own eyes the man who makes himself well.

Because the newer methods of treatment are good, it does not follow that the old ones were bad: for if our honorable and worshipful ancestors had not recovered from their ailments, you and I would not be here today.

Let me recommend the best medicine in the world: a long journey, at a mild season, through a pleasant country, in easy stages.

There must be quite a few things a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them.

Well now, there’s a remedy for everything except death.

All pain is one malady with many names.