We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire.
George SandTags: forgetfulness suicide
If wild my breast and sore my pride,
I bask in dreams of suicide,
If cool my heart and high my head
I think 'How lucky are the dead.
Tags: suicide
God surely did not create us, and cause us to live, with the sole end of wishing always to die. I believe, in my heart, we were intended to prize life and enjoy it, so long as we retain it. Existence never was originally meant to be that useless, blank, pale, slow-trailing thing it often becomes to many, and is becoming to me, among the rest.
Charlotte BrontëTags: life optimism strength death courage joy endurance suicide chapter-21 steadfastness
Suicide is man's way of telling God, 'You can't fire me - I quit!
Bill MaherTags: suicide
...and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?
Vincent van GoghTags: art poetry nature suicide
The only difference between a suicide and a martyrdom really is the amount of press coverage.
Chuck Palahniukand he suddenly knew that if she killed herself, he would die. Maybe not immediately, maybe not with the same blinding rush of pain, but it would happen. You couldn't live for very long without a heart.
Jodi PicoultTags: love death heart mourning suicide
On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took her turn at suicide—it was Mary this time, and sleeping pills, like Therese—the two paramedics arrived at the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer was, and the gas oven, and the beam in the basement from which it was possible to tie a rope.
Jeffrey EugenidesTags: first-sentence suicide
Keep passing the open windows.
John IrvingTags: suicide perseverance learn-it-live-it-love-it
So it's back once more, back up the slope.
Why do they always ruin my rope
with their cuts?
I felt so ready the other day,
Had a real foretaste of eternity
In my guts.
Spoonfeeding me yet another sip
from life's cup.
I don't want it, won't take any more of it.
Let me throw up.
Life is medium rare and good, I see,
And the world full of soup and bread,
But it won't pass into the blood for me,
Just goes to my head.
It makes me ill, though others it feeds;
Do see that I must deny it!
For a thousand years from now at least
I'm keeping a diet.
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