Seasons & episodes

As time goes by.

A Texas rose.

A vision of loveliness.

Sorrow and pity.

Might and main.

Qualifications for the deed.

So oft it chances in particular men That (for some vicious mole of nature in them, As in their birth, wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin) By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit, that too much o'erleavens The form of plausive manners—that (these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star) Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo, Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault. The dram of evil Doth all the noble substance of a doubt, To his own scandal. Hamlet

The patient and the ill.

""But one thing is needful.""

It's a long shift that has no surgery.

A painstaking diagnosis.

How do you repay such a debt?

""Brave in his burning pride.""

To hell and gone.

Last straws.

The tautological imperative.

A gentle occupation.

""Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness...""

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands; The wood-cutter's song—the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else; The day what belongs to the day—at night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs. Come! some of you! still be flooding The States with hundreds and thousands of mouth-songs fit for The States only. Walt Whitman, Leaves of Gr

""Oh what hard luck stories they all hand me.""

A sabbath diversion.

It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. Lamentations

Dr. Casey tries to help a lawyer kick her morphine habit, but encounters resistance, lies and manipulation when she gets a guileless young man to smuggle dope into her hospital room. He is visiting his mother, who is in the hospital for treatment of injuries received in a beating. (Part 1 of 2)

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