It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
The only option for a pure idealist is to commit suicide.
... I vowed that I would always respect the right of an individual to kill himself. Whether suicide was a moral or immoral act I no longer felt sure, but of the dignity of its intransigence I was convinced.
I imagined a psychic pain growing inside him (myself) that demanded some physical outlet. Suicide must have been his attempt to give Pain a body, a representation, to put it outside himself. A need to convert inner torment into some outward tangible wound that all could see. It was almost as though suicide were a last-ditch effort at exorcism, in which the person sacrificed his life in order that the devil inside might die.
God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through my veins, and the air thick and gray with rain ... I fell into bed again this morning, begging for sleep, withdrawing into the dark, warm, fetid escape from action, from responsibility. No good.
The thought of suicide is a great source of comfort: with it a calm passage is to be made across many a bad night.
Amid the sufferings of life on earth, suicide is God's best gift to man.
When neither high purpose nor the categorical imperatives of religion will do, the only argument against suicide is life itself. You pause and attend: the heart beats in your chest; outside, the trees are thick with new leaves, a swallow dips over them, the light moves, people are going about their business.
And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead (suicide note)
Suicide note. "To my friends. My work is done why wait?"
They tried to get me-I got them first! (suicide note)
I don't believe that people should take their own lives without deep and thoughtful reflection over a considerable period of time. (suicide note)
By suicide I introduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will ... now I choose the direction of my thought and the direction of my faculties, my tendencies, my reality.
I don't think suicide is so terrible. Some rainy winter Sundays when there's a little boredom, you should always carry a gun. Not to shoot yourself, but to know exactly that you're always making a choice.
You really do learn by example... Especially women, sometimes we think somebody's going to rescue us, or somebody's going to teach us how to do it, when in fact we have to understand that the biggest resource we have is inside of ourselves. I know that I can count on me to take care of me. That's a very important thing to know.
My mom always tells me that... Nobody is going to remember you for the great basketball player you are but they will remember you for the character you have off the court and how many lives you're changed.
Often really what you need is someone who will believe in you, who will encourage you to believe in yourself.
I don't have any desire to rebel and be something totally different from what I am.
They tell me what to wear, how to look, what I should say, how I should be. Until recently I had given into that pressure, I lost sight of who I was. I listened to opinions of people and I tried to change who I am because I thought others would accept me for it. And I realized I don't know how to be anything but myself.
We know there are billions of stars and planets literally out there, and the universe is getting bigger. We know from our fancy telescopes that just in the last two years more than 20 planets have been identified outside our solar system that seem to be far enough away from their suns - - and dense enough - - that they might be able to support some form of life. So it makes it increasing less likely that we're alone. But if we were visited someday, I wouldn't be surprised.
You can change your fate. You can sit back, or you can go after your life and all that you want it to be.
And tell him to paint me a sign, with-no suicides permitted here, and no smloing in the parlor; might as well kill both birds at once.
Anyone who says that Iran will commit suicide with its nuclear power is a moron and has no business in discussion.
Dostoevsky wrote fiction about identity, moral value, death, will, sexual vs. spiritual love, greed, freedom, obsession, reason, faith, suicide. And he did it without ever reducing his characters to mouthpieces or his books to tracts. His concern was always what it is to be a human being—that is, how to be an actual *person*, someone whose life is informed by values and principles, instead of just an especially shrewd kind of self-preserving animal.
Start-ups don't die, they commit suicide.
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