One cannot open a periodical without being exhorted to train one's memory
for a variety of reasons. The neuropath needs a system of forgetfulness.
Lethe is often a greater friend than Mnemosyne.

To brood on disappointments, failures and griefs only wastes energy, sours
temper, and upsets the general health. Resolve _beforehand_ that when
unhappy ideas arise you will _not_ dwell on them, but turn your thoughts to
pleasant trifles; take up a humorous book, or take a turn in the fresh air,
and you will soon acquire the habit of laughing instead of whining at Fate.

To sum up: Go slow! Your neurons have been exhausted in your foolish
attempt to "live this day as if thy last" in a wrong sense; feverish
activity and unnecessary work must be abandoned to enable the nerves to
recuperate.

When the doctor says "rest", he means "_rest_", not change your bustle from
work to what you are pleased to regard as play.

So much is _absolute rest_ recognized as the foundation of treatment, that
severe cases undergo the "Weir-Mitchell Treatment". The patient is _utterly
secluded_; letters, reading, talking, smoking and visits from friends are
forbidden. He is put to bed, not allowed even to sit up, sees no one save
nurse and doctor, is massaged, treated electrically, grossly overfed,
fattened up, and freed from every care.

In leaving his habitual circle, the patient escapes the too-attentive care
of his relatives, and the incessant questions about his complaint with
which they overwhelm him. The results of this régime with semi-insane
wrecks are marvellous. It is a very drastic but very successful