The sick man is the parasite of society.

’Tis a portentous sign / When a man sweats and at the same time shivers.

Health care delivery is one of the tragedies still in America.

Infectious disease is one of the few genuine adventures left in the world.

Diseases, at least many of them, are like human beings. They are born, they flourish, and they die.

The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.

He who dies of epidemic disease is a martyr.

Diseases are not immutable entities but dynamic social constructions that have biographies of their own.

Disease makes men more physical, it leaves them nothing but body.

Death from the bubonic plague is rated, with crucifixion, among the nastiest human experiences of all.

If they prescribe a lot of remedies for some sickness or other, it means that the sickness is incurable.

If we wait for a pandemic to appear, it will be too late to prepare.

What timid man does not avoid contact with the sick, fearing lest he contract a disease so near?