"But that's not reasonable," he cried. "That's not reasonable. That's
superstition. Call a thing a drug and condemn it! Everything is a drug.
Everything that affects you. Food stimulates or tranquillizes. Drink.
Noise is a stimulant and quiet an opiate. What is life but response to
stimulants? Or reaction after them? When I'm exhausted I want food. When
I'm overactive and sleepless I want tranquillizing. When I'm dispersed I
want pulling together."
"But we don't know how to use drugs," the doctor objected.
"But you ought to know."
Dr. Martineau fixed his eye on a first floor window sill on the opposite
side of Harley Street. His manner suggested a lecturer holding on to his
theme.
"A day will come when we shall be able to manipulate drugs--all sorts
of drugs--and work them in to our general way of living. I have no
prejudice against them at all. A time will come when we shall correct
our moods, get down to our reserves of energy by their help, suspend
fatigue, put off sleep during long spells of exertion. At some sudden
crisis for example. When we shall know enough to know just how far to
go with this, that or the other stuff. And how to wash out its after
effects.... I quite agree with you,--in principle.... But that time
hasn't come yet.
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