You May Also Like / View all maxioms
 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. 
 He
 That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
  And, at the best, shows but a bastard read more 
 He
 That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
  And, at the best, shows but a bastard valour.
   This life's a fort committed to my trust,
    Which I must not yield up, till it be forced:
     Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die,
      But he that boldly bears calamity. 
 Against self-slaughter
 There is a prohibition so divine
  That cravens my weak hand.  
 Against self-slaughter
 There is a prohibition so divine
  That cravens my weak hand. 
 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! 
 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? 
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.
 There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is 
confession.  
 There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is 
confession. 
 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. 
While foulest fiends shun thy society.
While foulest fiends shun thy society.