A musing!
It was only in her sickness that they gave her the rest she deserved. It was only when she was unwell that her heart had capacity for her own art. It was only in the dying that they stole a bed for her rest. She had accumulated more time in bed as a sick woman than she had when she was supposedly loved, holy, hail.... Thy lie down beside a green pasture.
short but powerful. rest feels like luxury when it should be ubiquitous