If suicide be supposed a crime, it is only cowardice can impel us
to it. If it be no crime, both prudence and courage should
engage us to rid ourselves at once of existence when it becomes a
burden. It is the only way that we can then be useful to
society, by setting an example which, if imitated, would preserve
every one his chance for happiness in life, and would effectually
free him from all danger or misery.
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Bravest at the last,
She levelled at our purposes, and being royal,
Took her own way.
Bravest at the last,
She levelled at our purposes, and being royal,
Took her own way.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
read more
Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons,
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.
When Fannius from his foe did fly
Himself with his own hands he slew;
Who e'er a read more
When Fannius from his foe did fly
Himself with his own hands he slew;
Who e'er a greater madness knew?
Life to destroy for fear to die.
Not many artists commit suicide by leaping off the pinnacle of success.
Not many artists commit suicide by leaping off the pinnacle of success.
Anyone desperate enough for suicide...should be desperate enough to go to creative extremes to solve problems: elope at midnight, stow read more
Anyone desperate enough for suicide...should be desperate enough to go to creative extremes to solve problems: elope at midnight, stow away on the boat to New Zealand and start over, do what they always wanted to do but were afraid to try.
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; read more
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout,
That, bearing all mischance, dares last it out.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To read more
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please.
