If suicide be supposed a crime, it is only cowardice can impel us
to it. If it be no read more

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.

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.

Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight,
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . . .
read more

Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight,
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . . .
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
O Britain! infamous for suicide.

Not many artists commit suicide by leaping off the pinnacle of success.

Not many artists commit suicide by leaping off the pinnacle of success.

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.

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.

Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep,
All things within its bosom sleep!
A single step, read more

Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep,
All things within its bosom sleep!
A single step, and all is o'er,
A plunge, a bubble, and no more.

But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, read more

But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man,
Then must it be an awful thing to die;
More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.

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?