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The beasts (Conservatives) had committed suicide to save
themselves from slaughter.
The beasts (Conservatives) had committed suicide to save
themselves from slaughter.
The common damn'd shun their society.
The common damn'd shun their society.
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.
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.
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.
You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or read more
You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.
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.
Suicide is man's way of telling God, "You can't fire me - I quit."
Suicide is man's way of telling God, "You can't fire me - I quit."
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?
