[on Being Deaf:] We Must

There Is No Theory Of A God, Of An Author Of Nature, Of An Origin Of The Universe, Which Is Not Utterly Repugnant To My Faculties. . .

The Sick-room Becomes The Scene Of Intense Convictions; And Among These, None, It Seems To Me, Is More Distinct And Powerful Than That Of The Permanent Nature Of Good, And The Transient Nature Of Evil.

The Clergy Complain Of The Enormous Spread Of Bold Books, From The Infidel Tract To The Latest Handling Of The Miracle Question.

Everything But Truth Becomes Loathed In A Sick-room ... Let The Nurse Avow That The Medicine Is Nauseous. Let The Physician Declare That The Treatment Will Be Painful. Let Sister, Or Brother, Or Friend, Tell Me That I Must Never Look To Be Well. When The Time Approaches That I Am To Die, Let Me Be Told That I Am To Die, And When.

It Matters Infinitely Less What We Do Than What We Are.