“She said the object and color in the materials around us actually have a physical effect on us, on how we feel.”

Nursing is an art: and if it is to be made an art, it requires an exclusive devotion as hard a preparation as any painter’s or sculptor’s work.

I have lived and slept in the same bed with English countesses and Prussian farm women… no woman has excited passions among women more than I have.

I never lose an opportunity of urging a practical beginning, however small.

Diseases, as all experience shows, are adjectives, not noun substantives.

Religious men are and must be heretics now- for we must not pray, except in a “form” of words, made beforehand- or think of God but with a prearranged idea.

When shall we see a life full of steady enthusiasm, walking straight to its aim, flying home, as that bird is now, against the wind – with the calmness and the confidence of one who knows the laws of God and can apply them?

Asceticism is the trifling of an enthusiast with his power, a puerile coquetting with his selfishness or his vanity, in the absence of any sufficiently great object to employ the first or overcome the last.

Heaven is neither a place nor a time.

Nature alone cures. What nursing has to do is to put the patient in the best condition for nature to act upon him.

If a patient is cold, if a patient is feverish, if a patient is faint, if he is sick after taking food, if he has a bed-sore, it is generally the fault not of the disease, but of the nursing.

For it may safely be said, not that the habit of ready and correct observation will by itself make us useful nurses, but that without it we shall be useless with all our devotion.

I use the word nursing for want of a better.

Never underestimate the healing effects of beauty.

A girl, if she has any pride, is so ashamed of having anything she wishes to say out of the hearing of her own family, she thinks it must be something so very wrong, that it is ten to one, if she have the opportunity of saying it, that she will not.

For us who Nurse, our Nursing is a thing, which, unless in it we are making progress every year, every month, every week, take my word for it we are going back. The more experience we gain, the more progress we can make.

Moral activity? There is scarcely such a thing possible! Everything is sketchy. The world does nothing but sketch.

I can’t have brown hair for some reason. I don’t think it goes with my skin tone. The second I see it turn brown in the sun, I dye it black – the blacker the better.

He could only give her a world in black and white. And all she wanted was a life of color.

Go on then, color me broken whilst I feign my surprise. Let me summon some sorrow for this wreckage inside.

The great inlet by which a colour for oppression has entered into the world is by one man’s pretending to determine concerning the happiness of another.

I like hair each and every way. I like to give scalp massages – to pull and tug on it. But my favorite style is long, real hair in a dusty blonde-brown color.

Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.

You’d be surprised how many people want to hang an electric chair on their living-room wall. Specially if the background color matches the drapes.

We all show our true colors eventually – mine is dark and firesome red. I bet I burned you. I don’t expect to see you soon.