The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn.
And violets bathe in the wet of the morn. [ Burns ]

The root of sanctity is sanity. A man must be healthy before he can be holy. We bathe first, and then perfume. [ Mme. Swetchine ]

Mirth is God's medicine. Everybody ought to bathe in it. Grim care, moroseness, anxiety, - all this rust of life, ought to be scoured off by the oil of mirth. It is better than emery. Every man ought to rub himself with it. A man without mirth is like a wagon without springs, in which one is caused disagreeably to jolt by every pebble over which it runs. [ Beecher ]