"<p>Every time I went to the doctor, I couldn't escape the embarrassing and humiliating feeling that I was deceiving the good man who, according to his craft and knowledge of human nature, was treating me with concern and care, but in a completely hopeless way. For all that he could offer - remedies, various cures, water or rays, powders, and liquids - might have cured my kidneys, my liver, or my heart, but could not cure what is the sole cause of my illness: my way of life, which is the result of my character, my basic nature and inclination. Therefore, seriously and politely, to the best of our ability, we have always deceived each other, the doctor and the patient. Lifestyles cannot be cured, nor can they be changed, except temporarily.</p> <p>That is why nature, wisely, takes care of diseases: because most people only rest their passions temporarily in the forced quarantine of ailments. "Il est quelque fois saine d'être malade!" - said a Frenchman. Most men would die at the age of forty-five if they did not rest for a few weeks in their sickbeds.</p>"