You were said to have died of suffering. But you died because you searched for happiness at the risk of finding the void. — Édouard Levé, Suicide. (P.O.L. (ï¿½DITIONS); POL edition, April 15, 2008)
It is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late. ― Emil Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born. (Arcade Publishing September 15, 1998) Originally published 1973.
But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. — Anne Sexton, from “Wanting to Die,” The Complete Poems. (Houghton Mifflin 1981)
My dearest Sixsmith, I shot myself through the roof of my mouth this morning with Vivian Ayrs’ Luger. A true suicide is a paced, disciplined certainty. People pontificate suicide is a coward’s act. Couldn’t be further from the truth. Suicide takes tremendous courage. Don’t let them say I killed myself for love. Had my infatuations,… Continue reading Ben Whishaw
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss. Langston Hughes, “Suicide’s Note,” Selected Poems of Langston Hughes. (Vintage; 6th edition September 12, 1990) Originally published 1959.
All men see fires, storms, explosions, or landscapes; but how many feel the flames, the lightnings, the whirlwinds, or the harmony? How many have an inner beauty that tinges their melancholy? For the indifferent, to whom nature offers an insipid and cold objectivity, life even when fully enjoyed is a sum of missed opportunities. — Emil… Continue reading Emil Cioran