Eliza Graves Page #2

Year:
2014
306 Views


more cruel

than madness, sir.

See, it robs a man

of his reason,

his dignity,

his very soul.

And it does so,

so slowly,

without the remorse of death.

Please, sir.

I have the desire

and the training.

All I lack is the

clinical experience.

Time for afternoon rounds.

Of course.

I didn't wish to keep you...

Join me, Doctor.

Thank you.

Mr. Finn, help the doctor off

with his coat, would you?

Thank you.

You'll find us well-stocked

with the usual cases.

Neurasthenia,

dementia praecox,

incurable homosexuality,

epilepsy, melancholia.

But where we differ

from other asylums

is in the social station

of our patients.

All hail from the finest

families in Europe.

For instance,

Terrance here

is heir to one of the largest

railroad fortunes in the continent.

And what is the nature

of his disorder?

He suffers from an utter

lack of interest in trains.

So his family

had him committed?

Interesting case

this one.

Signore Balzoni was thrown from his

horse during a polo match in Milan

and ever since he's believed

himself to be an Arabian stallion.

He gets a tad agitated

at feeding times.

Please go ahead.

You'll find most

of our patients are here

because they are embarrassments

to their families.

Outcasts.

Signore,

give the gentleman his arm back

or I shall be forced to

withhold grooming for a week.

You-You groom him?

Small price to pay

to keep him contented.

Isn't that reinforcing his delusion?

Yes.

What, you don't attempt

to cure your patients?

Cure them?

To what purpose?

Well, to bring them back

to their senses, of course.

And make a miserable man out

of a perfectly happy horse.

Madame.

Your Eminence.

Is it always

this lively?

Here we do not believe

in sedating our patients

into a stupor with

bromides and the like.

We prefer to celebrate them in

their natural unadulterated state.

Check.

Mm.

Good afternoon, my lovely.

Nurse.

Nurse?

Has she eaten today?

She refuses to eat until her

son returns from the war.

He was killed in action

in Peshawar, '85.

Have you tried

a feeding tube?

We do not use such

medieval methods here.

I'd hardly

call it "medieval".

What would you

call it then?

Well, a necessary means

of preventing death.

Death cannot be

prevented, Doctor,

any more

than madness cured.

There's no cure

for the human condition.

And it's a foolish

physician who tries.

Suppose I were to present

you with the following case.

A woman who suffers

from violent fits

triggered by physical

or emotional contact

that she perceives to be

of too intimate a nature.

Ah, sounds

like hysteria.

What treatment

would you prescribe?

Ah, mustard packs,

I should think.

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Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe (; born Edgar Poe; January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American writer, editor, and literary critic. Poe is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre. He is widely regarded as a central figure of Romanticism in the United States and American literature as a whole, and he was one of the country's earliest practitioners of the short story. Poe is generally considered the inventor of the detective fiction genre and is further credited with contributing to the emerging genre of science fiction. He was the first well-known American writer to try to earn a living through writing alone, resulting in a financially difficult life and career.Poe was born in Boston, the second child of two actors. His father abandoned the family in 1810, and his mother died the following year. Thus orphaned, the child was taken in by John and Frances Allan of Richmond, Virginia. They never formally adopted him, but Poe was with them well into young adulthood. Tension developed later as John Allan and Edgar repeatedly clashed over debts, including those incurred by gambling, and the cost of secondary education for the young man. Poe attended the University of Virginia but left after a year due to lack of money. Poe quarreled with Allan over the funds for his education and enlisted in the Army in 1827 under an assumed name. It was at this time that his publishing career began, albeit humbly, with the anonymous collection Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827), credited only to "a Bostonian". With the death of Frances Allan in 1829, Poe and Allan reached a temporary rapprochement. However, Poe later failed as an officer cadet at West Point, declaring a firm wish to be a poet and writer, and he ultimately parted ways with John Allan. Poe switched his focus to prose and spent the next several years working for literary journals and periodicals, becoming known for his own style of literary criticism. His work forced him to move among several cities, including Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York City. In Richmond in 1836, he married Virginia Clemm, his 13-year-old cousin. In January 1845, Poe published his poem "The Raven" to instant success. His wife died of tuberculosis two years after its publication. For years, he had been planning to produce his own journal The Penn (later renamed The Stylus), though he died before it could be produced. Poe died in Baltimore on October 7, 1849, at age 40; the cause of his death is unknown and has been variously attributed to alcohol, "brain congestion", cholera, drugs, heart disease, rabies, suicide, tuberculosis, and other agents.Poe and his works influenced literature in the United States and around the world, as well as in specialized fields such as cosmology and cryptography. Poe and his work appear throughout popular culture in literature, music, films, and television. A number of his homes are dedicated museums today. The Mystery Writers of America present an annual award known as the Edgar Award for distinguished work in the mystery genre. more…

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