Best 1629 quotes in «suicide quotes» category

By simply stating the truth, we open conversations about grief, which are really conversations about love. We start to love one another better. We begin to overhaul the falsely redemptive storyline that has us, as a culture and as individuals, insist that there's a happy ending everywhere if only we look hard enough. We stop blaming each other for our pain, and instead, work together to change what can be changed, and withstand what can't be fixed. We get more comfortable with hearing the truth, even when the truth breaks our hearts.

By then there had been other men. She'd flung herself at other closed windows. The windows never broke, but her heart, at the end, was in splinters.

Camus said there is only really one serious philosophical question, which is whether or not to commit suicide. I think there are four or five serious philosophical questions: The first one is: Who started it? The second is: Are we going to make it? The third is: Where are we going to put it? The fourth is: Who's going to clean up? And the fifth: Is it serious? Out Of Your Mind (2004), Audio lecture 1: The Nature of Consciousness: A Game That's Worth The Candle.

Can you no longer see a road to freedom? It's right in front of you. You need only turn over your wrists.

Can you do it? When the time comes? When the time comes there will be no time. Now is the time. Curse God and die. What if it doesn't fire? It has to fire. Could you crush that beloved skull with a rock?

Carved deep into my veins but didn't bleed Overdosed on sleeping pills but didn't sleep When your heart is heavy, it gets increasingly harder to breathe Clearly there's a God But why has he forsaken me?

Cecilia had unleashed her blood in the bath, Amy Schraff said, because the ancient Romans had done that when life became unbearable, and she thought when Dominic heard about it, on the highway, amid the cactus, he would realize that it was she who loved him.

Change a mindset change a life it really is that simple.

Cheryl was aided in her search by the Internet. Each time she remembered a name that seemed to be important in her life, she tried to look up that person on the World Wide Web. The names and pictures Cheryl found were at once familiar and yet not part of her conscious memory: Dr. Sidney Gottlieb, Dr. Louis 'Jolly' West, Dr. Ewen Cameron, Dr. Martin Orne and others had information by and about them on the Web. Soon, she began looking up sites related to childhood incest and found that some of the survivor sites mentioned the same names, though in the context of experiments performed on small children. Again, some names were familiar. Then Cheryl began remembering what turned out to be triggers from old programmes. 'The song, "The Green, Green Grass of home" kept running through my mind. I remembered that my father sang it as well. It all made no sense until I remembered that the last line of the song tells of being buried six feet under that green, green grass. Suddenly, it came to me that this was a suicide programme of the government. 'I went crazy. I felt that my body would explode unless I released some of the pressure I felt within, so I grabbed a [pair ofl scissors and cut myself with the blade so I bled. In my distracted state, I was certain that the bleeding would let the pressure out. I didn't know Lynn had felt the same way years earlier. I just knew I had to do it Cheryl says. She had some barbiturates and other medicine in the house. 'One particularly despondent night, I took several pills. It wasn't exactly a suicide try, though the pills could have killed me. Instead, I kept thinking that I would give myself a fifty-fifty chance of waking up the next morning. Maybe the pills would kill me. Maybe the dose would not be lethal. It was all up to God. I began taking pills each night. Each-morning I kept awakening.

Čím ľudia môžu byť šťastnejší, tým sú nešťastnejší.

Čia reikia pridurti, jog klaidinga vadinti savižudžiais tik tuos žmones, kurie iš tikrųjų nusižudo. Tarp pastarųjų yra netgi daug tokių, kurie savižudžiais tampa, taip sakant, atsitiktinai, polinkio į savižudybę jie gali ir neturėti. Tarp žmonių, nepasižyminčių ryškia asmenybe, ryškiu likimu, tarp eilinių ir bandos žmonių pasitaiko tokių, kurie nusižudo, bet pagal visą savo charakterį anaiptol nepriklauso savižudžių tipui, kai tuo tarpu vėlgi daugelis, galbūt dauguma iš tų, kurie pagal savo esybę priklauso savižudžiams,— iš tikrųjų niekada nepakelia prieš save rankos. Savižudis — o Haris toks buvo — nebūtinai turi gyventi, ypač glaudžiai susijęs su mirtimi — taip galima gyventi ir nebūnant savižudžiu. Bet savižudžiui būdinga tai, kad jis savąjį „aš",— nesvarbu, teisėtai ar neteisėtai,— junta tarsi ypač pavojingą, nepatikimą ir nesaugų gamtos daigą, kad pats sau jis atrodo toks begaliniai nesaugus ir paliktas pavojui, tarsi stovėtų ant siaurutėlės uolos viršūnės, kur tereikia mažiausio išorinio stumtelėjimo arba menkiausio vidinio silpnumo, kad nukristų į tuštumą. Šio tipo žmonių likimui būdinga tai, kad savižudybė jiems yra visų tikėtiniausią mirties rūšis, bent jau jų pačių supratimu. Šią nuotaiką, kuri beveik visada pastebima dar ankstyvoje jaunystėje ir lydi šiuos žmones visą gyvenimą, sukelia ne kažkokia ypatingai silpna gyvybinė jėga, atvirkščiai, tarp „savižudžių" pasitaiko nepaprastai atkaklių, godžių ir drąsių natūrų. Bet lygiai taip pat, kaip yra žmonių, kurie, nors truputį sunegalavę, karščiuoja, taip ir šie žmonės, kuriuos vadiname „savižudžiais" ir kurie visuomet labai jausmingi ir jautrūs, nuo menkiausio sukrėtimo linkę intensyviai pasiduoti savižudybės minčiai.

Coincidences undeniably imply meaning. I am rereading Hart Crane. I notice the date On which he stepped off that boat Was April 26. Tomorrow is April 26. The year of his suicide was 1932. I was four. I am now fifty-one. One undeniable implication in this case then Is that the year, today, Is 1979. Afterward, Crane’s mother scrubbed floors. Eventually, I may or may not Jump overboard. Are there questions?

Commencer à penser, c'est commencer d'être miné.

Committing suicide essentially said to friends and loved ones and the world at large that you were the only thing that mattered, that your problems were hopeless that you deserved to escape from them and to hell with everyone else. Suicide was nothing more than a way to look in the eye of the people who loved you and say, "My pain is paramount and I want it to end. The pain you will feel when I am gone, and the guilt you will experience at not having been able to stop me, do not matter to me. I am willing for you to suffer for the rest of your life so that I can take the easy way out of mine.

Comment juger, dans un monde où l'on s'efforce de survivre à tout prix, ceux qui décident de mourir ? Personne ne peux juger. chacun connaît la dimension de sa propre souffrance et sait si sa vie est vide de sens.

Conscience is worse than death, some people commit suicide to evade it.

Confidence don't mean jack shit in the real world, sis," she once said. I feel myself finding the courage to trust those words more and more with every twist of the knife. Coincidentally, last Tuesday afternoon I was involuntarily exposed to the punch line of an old wise tale that goes something like: "There's beauty that can be found in everything." But why can't the insensitive cunt who said that ever find the courage to look in the mirror? Because poopycock, one might say.

COPE Create Options Pending Emergence

Contemporary consciousness is no longer equipped to deal with our mortality. Never in any other time, or any other civilization, have people thought so much or so contantly about aging. Each individual has a simple view of the future: a time will come when the sum of pleasures that life has left to offer is outweighed by the sum of pain (one can actually feel the meter ticking, and it ticks always in the same direction). This weighing up of pleasure and pain, which everyone is forced to make sooner or later, leads logically, at a certain age, to suicide.

Coping with any death is traumatic; suicide compounds the anguish because we are forced to deal with two traumatic events at the same time. According to the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the level of stress resulting from the suicide of a loved one is ranked as catastrophic–equivalent to that of a concentration camp experience.

Cory wondered if maybe some people were better off dead. When you’re dead you don’t have to face the horrors of life, whether it’s striving to be the best, dealing with something bad you or somebody else did, dealing with someone’s death or anything. Most people, if not everyone, had a reason to die. Dead people can’t even be upset about dying because they’re dead.

Cos every breath is unbearably painful

Could you just imagine? If every suicide rose--think of Faulkner's Quentin Compson as a vampire. I don't hate the South I don't I don't. She wondered how they'd have worked it out in Cambridge when Quentin threw himself off the Andersen bridge into the Charles amid the odor of the honeysuckle, not the beer, sweat, rum, and tainted magnolias of this city, precariously beneath the level of the water. The Compson blood had thinned out; at least this way, he's restore it after a fashion.

David Lester, a psychology professor at Richard Stockton College in New Jersey, has likely thought about suicide longer, harder, and from more angles than any other human. In more than twenty-five-hundred academic publications, he has explored the relationship between suicide and, among other things, alcohol, anger, antidepressants, astrological signs, biochemistry, blood type, body type, depression, drug abuse, gun control, happiness, holidays, Internet use, IQ, mental illness, migraines, the moon, music, national-anthem lyrics, personality type, sexuality, smoking, spirituality, TV watching, and wide-open spaces. Has all this study led Lester to some grand unified theory of suicide? Hardly. So far he has one compelling notion. It’s what might be called the “no one left to blame” theory of suicide. While one might expect that suicide is highest among people whose lives are the hardest, research by Lester and others suggests the opposite: suicide is more common among people with a higher quality of life. “If you’re unhappy and you have something to blame your unhappiness on—if it’s the government, or the economy, or something—then that kind of immunizes you against committing suicide,” he says. “It’s when you have no external cause to blame for your unhappiness that suicide becomes more likely. I’ve used this idea to explain why African-Americans have lower suicide rates, why blind people whose sight is restored often become suicidal, and why adolescent suicide rates often rise as their quality of life gets better.

Crisis is what suppressed pain looks like; it always comes to the surface. It shakes you into reflection and healing.

Cuba will be free. I already am.

dead people commit suicide!!

Dear Anyone Who Finds This, Do not blame the drugs.

Death cures all.

Death frees us from the sickness of modern life.

Death” is never an end, but a To Be Continued...

Death is not the end! The exit for the world of mortals is the entrance to the world of immortals!

Despair, grief, and depression are not things that people can simply stop, any more than someone can will an end to a toothache or the pain of withdrawal. Acutely suicidal people have lost all sense of having power over their pain. To tell them to magically acquire will power is like asking a crippled person to race against a champion. It does not help them do the thing in question; it just makes them feel worse.

Crap. It's all crap. Living is crap. Life has no meaning. None. Nowhere to be found. Crap. Why doesn't anybody realize this?

Dans l'attachement d'un homme à sa vie, il y a quelque chose de plus fort que toutes les misères du monde. Le jugement du corps vaut bien celui de l'esprit et le corps recule devant l'anéantissement. Nous prenons l'habitude de vivre avant d'acquérir celle de penser. Dans cette course qui nous précipite tous les jours un peu plus vers la mort, le corps garde cette avance irréparable. Enfin, l'essentiel de cette contradiction réside dans ce que j'appellerai l'esquive parce qu'elle est à la fois moins et plus que le divertissement au sens pascalien. L'esquive mortelle qui fait le troisième thème de cet essai, c'est l'espoir. Espoir d'une autre vie qu'il faut « mériter », ou tricherie de ceux qui vivent non pour la vie elle-même, mais pour quelque grande idée qui la dépasse, la sublime, lui donne un sens et la trahit.

Death is a thing of beauty, but equally a destroyer of beauty. That is the paradox that we are left with.

Death is easy. To live is the most painful thing I could imagine and I'm weak and no longer willing to fight.

De nouveau il entendit la porte s'ouvrir, et, calme, du fond de la chambre, il vit venir à lui sa dernière heure.

Depression, is like trying to find a light switch in pitch darkness. Defeating it takes much assistance and resource. First, it's letting in loved ones that are reaching out, when light will begin to shine.

Did you see her again in France?" I asked him.” “No. When I got to France, she was already dead. She committed suicide ...” “Why?” “She often told me she was frightened of getting old...

Die menschliche Natur hat ihre Grenzen: sie kann Freude, Leid, Schmerzen bis auf einen gewissen Grad ertragen und geht zugrunde, sobald der überstiegen ist. Hier ist also nicht die Frage, ob einer schwach oder stark ist, sondern ob er das Maß seines Leidens ausdauern kann, es mag nun moralisch oder körperlich sein. Und ich finde es ebenso wunderbar zu sagen, der Mensch ist feige, der sich das Leben nimmt, als es ungehorig wäre, den einen Feigen zu nennen, der an einem bösartigen Fieber stirbt.

Di solito quello che una persona intende per "felicità" non è nient'altro che la relativa sicurezza che anche il giorno dopo non si ammazzerà.

Does any man have the right to dispose of his own life? This is the ultimate question of moral entitlement, and relevant only if right is relevant in this context, and it is not. A suicidal man cannot be concerned - and nor should he be - with questions of moral entitlement. (And how absurd.) His one concern should be whether self-execution will most expediently relieve his suffering.

Done because we are too many.

Don't be afraid! Hold my hand and let's jump off that cliff; together.

Don't commit suicide your thoughts with jealousy and hatred.

Discussions about the ethics of suicide are immediately biased by the verb that customarily attaches to it in English. One "commits" suicide. Because this presupposes the wrongfulness of the suicide, I avoid that verb, opting instead for "carry out" suicide. This is evaluatively neutral, avoiding both the usual bias against suicide and the unusual bias in favor of it that the verb "achieve" would effect. "Carry out" is preferable to "practice", which implies something ongoing. Finally, "carry out" also implies a suicide that is completed rather than merely attempted.

Do human beings have an infinite amount of energy with which to resist death? It is kinder and more accurate to say that they fought until they had no more fight left in them.

Doomed and knew it, accepted the doom without either seeking or fleeing it. Loved her brother despite him, loved not only him but loved in him that bitter prophet and inflexible corruptless judge of what he considered the family's honor and its doom, as he thought he loved but really hated in her what he considered the frail doomed vessel of its pride and the foul instrument of its disgrace, not only this, she loved him not only in spite of but because of the fact that he himself was incapable of love, accepting the fact that he must value above all not her but the virginity of which she was custodian and on which she placed no value whatever: the frail physical stricture which to her was no more than a hangnail would have been. Knew the brother loved death best of all and was not jealous, would (and perhaps in the calculation and deliberation of her marriage did) have handed him the hypothetical hemlock. Was two months pregnant with another man's child which regardless of what its sex would be she had already named Quentin after the brother whom they both (she and her brother) knew was already the same as dead...

Don’t stop breathing just because night has fallen! Don't stop breathing just because you are sleeping