" This was the first time, in a long life, that he had savoured to the full the pleasures of his senses. He remembered the extraordinary sensations he had felt, when bedbound, on his sudden awareness of the inanimate objects in the bedroom. That had been the beginning of his new response to his surroundings, although weakness then had blurred some of the pleasure.

Now, with ever-growing strength, he gave thanks for the miracles around him, and his ability to recognise them.

Sickness, reflected Robert, changed a man. He thought of the invalids he had known. How often he had dismissed their querulousness and complaints as the outcome of self-pity! He knew better now.

It was not only with themselves and their pain that the sick were concerned. They worried for their others. They grieved for the work they were causing, for the disruption of other people's lives, the sapping of their energy, the tensions within a family, and the awful possibility of increasing helplessness.

He had been lucky, he thought soberly. Lucky to have had his darling Milly as a constant support, a doctor he trusted, and a loving family. Lucky too, to have realised this further truth, that the sick are sad, not only for themselves, but for those they love. He would never forget it. "

― Miss Read , Return to Thrush Green (Thrush Green, #5)