The art of healing comes from nature, not from the physician. Therefore the physician must start from nature, with an open mind.
quote by Philipus Aureolus Paracelsus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
A physician without a knowledge of Astrology has no right to call himself a physician.
quote by Hippocrates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The young physician starts life with 20 drugs for each disease, and the old physician ends life with one drug for 20 diseases.
quote by William Osler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A physician is not angry at the intemperance of a mad patient, nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in fever. Just so should a wise man treat all mankind, as a physician does his patient, and look upon them only as sick and extravagant.
quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thirteen Lines
A brain peered through stoic eyes;
Yet all it saw was rendered into
Flawed interpretation –
No honoured contemplation of a
Gluon, muon, quark of any flavour;
Nor a vision or conception of its world
Within a universe anthropic in its physical laws,
Inside a boundless multiverse.
All it gleaned and modelled
Bore parochialism well beyond belief! –
Delusional perhaps.
Survival only matters here on planet Earth –
Evolution saw to that.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
na ture nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A double edge sword
They say love is
a physician,
or a medicine for
the hearts pang.
But is not much
accurate when love
slugs you many times
and it never heals
the heart,
Much more then that it
shatters it every time.
For my heart is wounded
in numerous ways it is not
a proving thing,
Is like a myth a
fairy tale;
Love is a double
edge sword,
they might say love
is an antidote that
heals or an aspirin to
ease the pain,
Not in my world,
in my veins,
but yet the only
love that heals my wounds
and my aches is
the Lord's love.
A mans love
has no remedy,
it is the worst love you
can conceive
love is a tainted touch
when coming from mortal,
A dark veil with
poison desires,
love has come to me
with untainted eyes,
and hidden thorns,
covering his identity,
A pet can give away
his best to you,
a pure innocent love,
with meekness eyes
and pure soul.
Love is not a healer
to the heart,
to me it is a thieve of my
peace and bliss,
a harmony turn to war.
So love is a physician,
that's what they say,
but medicine posthumous
is unreachable unless by
Godly
The love of God is
a true love,
it has no envy
no confinement,
no conditions,
is perpetual and
immaculate.
Don't tell me love
is a physician,
a physician is
what I need after having
the love of thee.
Jehovah is my physician indeed
copyrightElenaToledo2009
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Country Walking
I walked a league and o'er the moor;
I walked and walked as ne’er before,
And on to walk from dale to hill
And on again to claim the thrill.
Behold! that walking does for me:
The senses heightened, mind of glee,
While rolling vistas pass me by
To swell the heart, enthrall the eye.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
nature nature nature nature
nature nature lovely creature
nature nature nature nature
nature nature lovely feature
nature nature nature
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.
quote by William Osler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Medicines Aid Natures Immune Systems
“alternative medicine
in natural resources
blossoms barks leaves
betray a vibrancy
infused life force
invisible to naked
sterile microscope
blind western eyes
yet Hippocrates spoke of
‘vis medicatrix naturace’
in antique 400 B.C.”
guiding principles
of Hippocratic medicine
organisms contain
healing powers of nature
Hippocrates believed
that an organism
is not passive immune
to injuries or disease
an organism rebalances
itself to counteract
attack injuries diseases
any state of illness
is not a malady but
an effort of our bodies
to overcome disturbed
state of equilibrium
this capacity of organisms
to correct imbalances
distinguishes organisms
from non-living matter
from this follows
the medical approach
“nature is the best physician”
“nature is the healer of disease”
amazingly all top
pharmaceutical
companies agree
all exceptional
medicines healing balms
contain specific natural
ingredients researched
scientifically proven to be
miraculous curses
when administered
effectively treatments
curing ill organisms
synthetic medicines
lab designs lack enhanced
impact cure powers
nature heals best rebalances
God still retains impeccable title
big bang creator extraordinaire
God universal supreme scientist
quantum physicist par excellent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Gaia’s Plan
Please, don’t sweep the leaves away –
Their essence gives to life’s decay.
Never hack the flowers down –
Their colours bless the laughing clown.
Now why the mowing of the lawn?
The severed grass will lie forlorn.
Let our flora live undressed,
Or under Man, will toil repressed!
I, the tree of standing still –
Erect and proud, and stout of will,
Aglow with motley bark of earth –
Advance my roots for all they’re worth,
Internalising Nature’s bowels
To snag the devil, tweak his jowls
And pull his hairs from whence they grow!
I’ll destroy his pagan show
Of Homo sapiens’ disrespect!
The humble ape must reconnect
With Gaia’s plan!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
nature nature nature nature nature nature's creature
nature nature nature nature nature nature's creature
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nature nature nature nature nature nature's creature
nature nature nature nature nature nature's creature
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Mist Upon the Placid Morn
Bleed out your beauty, Autumn –
Give up a gentle wrist, and smear
Your bloody hues atop the green.
Cast a calming throw of heady peace
Upon the cooling land.
And as you grant the sun a final fling of warmth,
Charge the silent air
(Now lolling on a foliar deathbed)
With earthen whiff to intimate the fungal push.
Soon you’ll send a shiver down the watery spine of
Quivering ponds, punctual brooks, and
Listless lakes, to warn them of the freeze to come.
Behold! your mellow spirit
Hanging as a mist upon the placid morn –
A sight that draws a sneaking tear or two – forlorn
Observers are we all of colder climes to view!
Autumn Lady, must you be the summer waning –?
Our adieu to fairer-weather life?
Ah well, at least you hum a warming tone, ensuring
Nature’s rhythm still abounds.
But now you must prepare the mind for chilly times –
You know the drill –
Guiding us along a sloping path
To ease our psyche in to sleet and snow –
The blue-ice bite of winter.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature
nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature nature
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nature
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A physician's physiology has much the same relation to his power of healing as a cleric's divinity has to his power of influencing conduct.
quote by Samuel Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tortured Nature
Nature must be love
It is made by god above
Nature is in place
Nature is always with grace
The nature is green
It is colorful when seen
Nature is serene
It is peaceful ever seen
But people is bad
They make mother nature mad
When nature gets mad
It feels like the wrath of god
Disaster of nature
Is enough of your torture
Nature is flower
It gives love like a lover
poem by Ronald Jay Fiesta
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As I ventured to the Wood
As I ventured to the wood,
I stopped to draw on dewy air; let
Droplets shimmer in my hair, that
Rested on my tranquil head – as
In a sense of cosy bed.
As I ventured to the wood,
A gesturing cuckoo perched above,
And then in song with cooing dove,
‘You're welcome’, bade he, ’Enter please
To roam our land with gentle breeze.’
As I ventured to the wood,
A fallow deer of limpid eye
Gave care to glance at lucky I.
The heavenly aura 'bout her glow had
Charmed me, like a fine Bordeaux.
As I ventured to the wood,
A dazzling flower waved her face
In blazing show of dance and chase, and
Reddened bright in shade of dawn, she
Flirted like a prancing fawn.
As I ventured to the wood,
A butterfly had graced my arm,
And knowing I bid him no harm, he
Splayed for me hypnotic wing in
Colours for to urge me sing!
As I ventured to the wood,
The radiant sun shone down on me.
He flushed and beamed ‘I say to thee,
You bless your land; be filled with pride, and
Cherish e’er yon countryside! ’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
Nature, nature, Nature, nature, Nature, nature,
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Healer
TO A YOUNG PHYSICIAN, WITH DORE'S PICTURE OF CHRIST
HEALING THE SICK.
So stood of old the holy Christ
Amidst the suffering throng;
With whom His lightest touch sufficed
To make the weakest strong.
That healing gift He lends to them
Who use it in His name;
The power that filled His garment's hem
Is evermore the same.
For lo! in human hearts unseen
The Healer dwelleth still,
And they who make His temples clean
The best subserve His will.
The holiest task by Heaven decreed,
An errand all divine,
The burden of our common need
To render less is thine.
The paths of pain are thine. Go forth
With patience, trust, and hope;
The sufferings of a sin-sick earth
Shall give thee ample scope.
Beside the unveiled mysteries
Of life and death go stand,
With guarded lips and reverent eyes
And pure of heart and hand.
So shalt thou be with power endued
From Him who went about
The Syrian hillsides doing good,
And casting demons out.
That Good Physician liveth yet
Thy friend and guide to be;
The Healer by Gennesaret
Shall walk the rounds with thee.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Nature
Nature is beautiful
nature is fun
love it or hate it
nature is something to love
nature is god's gift to us
Nature
Nature we love
wate and feed nature
Nature water's and feed's us
god gave us nature
we cant live with out it
nature makes us
i know nature
Nature is beautiful
Nature is about the earth
nature has flower; s and weed's
weed's or flower's nature is us
NATURE
poem by Kerri King
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A Great Player!
Is man playing with Nature?
Or Nature playing with man?
Man by his mind wants all;
He wants all under his control.
But can man control Nature?
Action and reaction are equal!
The more man plays with Nature
The more Nature replies by play!
Winter snow is too much for man;
Summer heat is too much for man;
Why have they become too much?
Man has meddled with resources
Nature has provided for man
And the reaction of Nature is high!
Rules of game man has to learn;
Then only he can win in the game;
Until then Nature is the great player!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Our nature
Nature dances to no ones rhythm except her own
She sits proud and arrogant on her thrown
She is inconstant, up one day and down the next bout
Like an ocean tide going in and out
Nature is born of the universe
Or is it that she is one with the universe
Nature is inconquerable
Nature is invincible
Nature is beautiful
With an abundance of mysteries, she is bountiful
Nature is original law
When there was no man, she was there before
Nature bore us
Nature is us
poem by Mthoko Mpofana
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The Good Physician
How lost was my condition
Till Jesus made me whole!
There is but one Physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul.
Next door to death he found me,
And snatched me from the grave,
To tell to all around me,
His wondrous pow'r to save.
The worst of all diseases
Is light, compared with sin;
On every part it seizes,
But rages most within:
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness -- all combined;
And none but a believer
The least relief can find.
From men great skill professing
I thought a cure to gain;
But this proved more distressing,
And added to my pain:
Some said that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus every refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were crossed.
At length this great Physician,
How matchless is his grace!
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case:
First gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had sealed;
Then bid me look unto him,
I looked, and I was healed.
A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen by the eye of faith;
At once from danger frees us,
And saves the soul from death:
Come then to this Physician,
His help he'll freely give;
He makes no hard condition,
'Tis only -- look and live.
poem by John Newton
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How Lost Was My Condition
How lost was my condition
Till Jesus made me whole!
There is but one physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul
Next door to death he found me,
And snatched me from the grave,
To tell all around me
His wond'rous pow'r to save.
The worst of all diseases
Is light compared with sin;
On ev'ry part it seizes,
But rages most within;
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness-all combined;
And none, but a believer,
The least relief can find.
From men, great skill professing,
I sought a cure to gain;
But this proved more distressing,
And added to my pain;
Some said that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus ev'ry refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were crossed.
At length this great Physician,
How matchless is His grace!
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case;
First, gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had sealed-
Then bit me look unto Him;
I looked, and I was healed.
A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen by the eye of faith,
At once from danger frees us,
And saves the soul from death;
Come, then, to this Physician,
His help he'll freely give,
He makes no hard condition-
To Jesus look and live!
poem by John Newton
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HOW many of the body's health complain,
HOW many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
Some unrest of the souled, some secret pain,
Which thus its presence doth to them reveal.
Vain would we seek, by the physician's aid,
A name for this soul-sickness e'er to find;
A remedy for health and strength decayed,
Whose cause and cure are wholly of the mind
To higher nature is the soul allied,
And restless seeks its being's Source to know;
Finding not health nor strength in aught beside;
How often vainly sought in things below,
Whether in sunny clime, or sacred stream,
Or plant of wondrous powers of which we dream!
poem by Jones Very
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