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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.
And the more pity that great folk should have count'nance in this
world to drown or hang themselves more read more
And the more pity that great folk should have count'nance in this
world to drown or hang themselves more than their even-Christen.
Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are read more
Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live
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.
While foulest fiends shun thy society.
While foulest fiends shun thy society.
Life is like a movie, if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so read more
Life is like a movie, if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so far, it probably isn't gonna get great right at the end and make it all worthwhile. None should blame you for walking out early.
Fool! I mean not
That poor-souled piece of heroism, self-slaughter;
Oh no! the miserablest day we live
read more
Fool! I mean not
That poor-souled piece of heroism, self-slaughter;
Oh no! the miserablest day we live
There's many a better thing to do than die!
If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Take some course for your reputation.
If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Take some course for your reputation.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
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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?