Best 1629 quotes in «suicide quotes» category

Seven little crazy kids chopping up sticks; One burnt her daddy up and then there were six. Six little crazy kids playing with a hive; One tattooed himself to death and then there were five. Five little crazy kids on a cellar door; One went all schizo and then there were four. Four little crazy kids going out to sea; One wouldn't say a word and then there were three. Three little crazy kids walking to the zoo; One jerked himself too much and then there were two. Two little crazy kids sitting in the sun; One a took a bunch of pills and then there was one. One little crazy kid left all alone; He went and slit his wrists, and then there were none.

She already felt dead in everything but name. What remained to be taken from her? She longed to be enfolded, welcomed, into the earth - to breathe no more, love no more, hurt no more

She didn’t want to die. She couldn’t imagine wanting to die…Death was for—for other people.

She didn't mind if she died trying. Suicide was in everything she did now, and everything she thought. Suicide was her home: if she could find nothing else, then suicide would always have her.

She didn't struggle and so she didn't grow

She’d sworn she wouldn’t end up like her little brother, but loneliness didn’t arrive with flashing bulbs and a warning label. The descent was as simple and complex as a faked smile, white lies about being “okay,” and the nod and acceptance as her own peers didn’t delve deeper, shutting the coffin lid for her.

She was beginning to stir questions in me that I'd spent all my life refusing to ask, since the day I had looked down from the window at the broken body of the schoolboy on the flagstones a long way below, while a master hurried from the cloisters with his black gown flapping in the winter wind, to see what had happened: the day when I was suddenly old enough to understand that I had a choice. I could either do what that other boy had done, or I could spend the rest of my life outside society, where it was safe

She was neither happy nor unhappy, and that was why she couldn't go on.

She was not suicidal; that is what people never managed to grasp. Cutting relieved the pressure and stood as some enduring demonstration of her emotion, some way to be in control of a body that could toss her about with seizures. It was borderline artistic to mark her body, chiaroscuro designs in blood. Dying is the last thing she would want, like any healthy organism. A little pain, a small invoked sting trailing her arm, brought her much closer to grounded when she could not keep her head from racing, her thoughts from consuming her with obsession. An ounce of liquid weight loss and she could go back to being herself again. Usually.

She was completely alone in the world. There was no one at all for her. No one in the world who cared whether she lived or died. Sometimes the horror of that thought threatened to overwhelm her and plunge her down into a bottomless darkness from which there would be no return. If no one in the entire world cared about you, did you really exist at all?

She was disgusted with herself...and the disgust permanently cured her of suicide. Her piddling life did not deserve dramatic remedies.

She was her death now, that death which she had so much striven to emulate in life, which she had studied and practised and loved. She had succeeded, and death and she had converged into a single point. Who knew if that was victory or defeat? His last vision was of the white veil that hid her now. After all, and at last, she had become utterly private.

She wished Michael had had a grandfather like this guy Morty, someone to tell him, "It's a rotten deal, the house always wins. Just sit at the table and play for all you're worth." Instead of one who showed him how to die.

She would let a speeding automobile hit her to show them all how unloved she was.

She would die, and maybe everyone would forget that she had ever lived.

should i tear my heart out now? everything i feel returns to you somehow

Shinju in Japanese literally means "inside the heart." More fully, it implies that if the heart were cut open, there would be found only devotion to one's lover; thus, "revealing-the-heart death.

Simple" Kate had wanted to say, "I'm already dead.

Since September, I sat one seat behind Anna in algebra. Passed papers to her every day. Studied for tons of tests together. Though it often seemed impossible, Eventually, We always found the unknown for X. But not this time. This equation Bounces against my brain. And sneers at all attempted answers. I know I'll re-examine the variables, And reanalyze the unknowns, maybe forever. But It won't matter. Because, Anna- I know I'll never figure out Y. Y you didn't want to live- And Y I never noticed.

So, Anna, did you know That when you kill yourself Those you say you love, They die too?

Solo me siento vivo a partir del instante en que contemplo mi existencia.

So easy to go sailing off this road. A wonder more folks didn't. All that space, waiting.

Some days are sweetened with pure, but fleeting joy. Just keep keeping on. Some days consist of a kind of sorrow that tries to break you. Just keep keeping on. Some days are filled with bright, warm light that clearly shows the path to follow. Just keep keeping on. Some days are filled with calm and peace. Just keep keeping on. Some days are filled with a violent commotion that does its best to disrupt our innermost harmony. Just keep keeping on. Some days we must just take a rest, until we can once again, keep keeping on. Some days are filled with hope and faith and the recognition of a journey we wouldn't trade for anything. And so we keep keeping on.

Snap out it' is abusive. It kicks people when they are down. It makes people in pain feel more hopeless, more powerless, more frustrated, more estranged from humanity. It says, 'I don't want to be bothered with your pain any longer.' For people not in great pain, "Snap out of it" may be helpful advice if they have trouble getting going in the morning. For the despairing, however, it has no positive and many negative consequences. None of the conditions associated with suicide can be snapped out of.

Somehow, I feel almost blinded myself. And I am forever left to wonder Whether telling you how truly special You were Might have made a difference.

Some of the worst places I've ever lived in were fear, pain, and shame. The cost of living was so high, your only choice was a slow death.

Someone killed himself because of me once, Meredith said. People kill themselves because of what's inside of them, not because of other people.

Some of the most challenging work a suicide survivor can do is to pray. To pray fully, survivors must bring all of themselves to the prayer: their anger, disappointment, fears, insecurities, and why's. I bring all of me into an encounter with God, aware that nothing in the human experience, or the human response to the ambushes of life, is alien to God.

Some might say that suicide is for cowards. I dare them to hold a razor to their wrists and say it as they slice into their own flesh.

Some people can’t keep fighting. Some people want to escape. Some people are not ready—are not able—to find a way to deal with what’s in front of them. Sometimes there’s no one to help them. Sometimes they don’t know how to ask for help. Sometimes it feels like there’s no choice but to end it. No other way out. And sometimes it’s impossible to see past that.

Some people are still alive only because they find being dead more boring than being alive.

– Some people forget, do you know – they forget what it is like to be young, to feel things ruthlessly, terribly. If you forget that much of life, well, I don’t know.

Some people avoid thinking deeply in public, only because they are afraid of coming across as suicidal.

Some people would have killed themselves and/or someone else if they were single; and some people would not have done that.

Some people's glasses are half full. I'm the one drinking them. Some people have forgotten that Pluto is still a planet. I still remember my childhood. Some people are vegans. I have common sense. Some people call me Maurice. Some people call me the Gangsta of Love. Some people just want to live...but me, I'm the one still alive.

Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.

Some people usually make lemons, when life gives them lemonade.

Some things cannot be fixed; they can only be carried. Grief like yours, love like yours, can only be carried. Survival in grief, even eventually building a new life alongside grief, comes with the willingness to bear witness, both to yourself and to the others who find themselves inside this life they didn’t see coming. Together, we create real hope for ourselves, and for one another. We need each other to survive. I wish this for you: to find the people you belong with, the ones who will see your pain, companion you, hold you close, even as the heavy lifting of grief is yours alone. As hard as they may seem to find at times, your community is out there. Look for them. Collect them. Knit them into a vast flotilla of light that can hold you.

Sometimes I almost go hours without crying, Then I feel if I don't, I'll go insane. It can seem her whole life was her dying. She tried so hard, then she tired of trying; Now I'm tired, too, of trying to explain. Sometimes I almost go hours without crying. The anxiety, the rage, the denying; Though I never blamed her for my pain, It can seem her whole life was her dying. And mine was struggling to save her; prying, Conniving: it was the chemistry in her brain. Sometimes I almost go hours without crying. If I said she was easy, I'd be lying; The lens between her and the world was stained: It can seem her whole life was her dying. But the fact, the fact, is stupefying: Her absence tears at me like a chain. Sometimes I almost go hours without crying. It can seem her whole life was her dying. - Villanelle for a Suicide's Mother

Sometimes I though about killing myself. The idea of it circled my head, shining and lovely like a tinsel halo. How beautiful it would be if everything could just stop. If I could stop. If I didn't have to feel like this. Yes, I thought about it and thought about it, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it. That should have been funny, right?

Some things are not worth dying for, but without them life is not worth living.

Something she'd done since the first - she kept him from yielding to the dark lure of the water until he could see for himself the hope found in the dawn of each new day.

Sometimes things go wrong. You need to accept that. You need to know that you will be okay. You're amazing. You can have an amazing life if you choose to live it.

Sometimes the rope seems the only option when at the bottom of the pit. Climb it to safety.

Sometimes when a star collapses, it becomes a fiery supernova, but other times the core density is so great that it quietly consumes itself, forming a black hole, its gravitational pull so terrible that nothing can escape, not even light. You can't see a black hole, but if you look closesly, you can witness its effect on those objects nearest to it - the way it changes the orbit of solar systems or draws off a star's light a little at a time, sucking it down to its dense center, Maybe we couldn't have stopped Jesse's collapse, but we should have seen it happening.

Sometimes you get so tired of each day, you wish it was over. But it just goes on and on, like the silent prayers that forever go unanswered." - excerpt from: freefalling

Sometimes you just gotta hope for the hope of having hope some day.

Sometimes the first insanity is the worst insanity. Sometimes it's the only one. Sometimes that's good news. Sometimes it's bad news.

Sometimes, you don't wake up. But if you happen to, you know things will never be the same.

Sometimes you have to cross the boundaries of Death in order to discover the meaning of Life.