Graham Chapman Quotes

Is it hard for the reader to believe that suicides are sometimes committed to forestall the committing of murder? There is no doubt of it. Nor is there any doubt that murder is sometimes committed to avert suicide.

Let's say you have an ax. Just a cheap one, from Home Depot. On one bitter winter day, you use said ax to behead a man. Don't worry, the man was already dead. Or maybe you should worry, because you're the one who shot him.

Suicides are timid murderers. Masochism instead of Sadism.

Murderers have usually killed the one person in the world that was bugging them and they're usually quite peaceful and agreeable.

Violent behavior exists in one's psychological makeup much deeper than the level that receives information from television or movies.

In the morning he was lying dead on one of the beds fully clothed. He was dead. I got the impression he wanted to go, and I must have killed him. I can't remember strangling him. I just sat there shocked.

Violence is a commodity in the U. S. and the culture of violence is toxic.

Lately, the only thing keeping me from being a serial killer is my distaste for manual labor.

Besides, who wants to read about success, anyway? Successful serial murderers, maybe.

Murder offers the promise of vast relief. It is never unsexual.

That's how we stay young these days: murder and suicide.

You never can tell, though, with suicide notes, can you? In the planetary aggregate of all life, there are many more suicide notes than there are suicides. They're like poems in that respect, suicide notes: nearly everyone tries their hand at them some time, with or without the talent. We all write them in our heads. Usually the note is the thing. You complete it, and then resume your time travel. It is the note and not the life that is cancelled out. Or the other way round. Or death. You never can tell, though, can you, with suicide notes.

First, I blow a hole in your face; then I go back inside, and sleep like a baby... I guarantee you.

I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

I know from my own experience that suicide is not what it seems. Too easy to try to piece together the fragmented life. The spirit torn in bits so that the body follows.

Everything has to do with murder.

I thought that Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman. I thought so right up to the moment that I cut his throat.

...we ask: Why suicide? We search for reasons, causes, and so on.... We follow the course of the life he has now so suddenly terminated as far back as we can. For days we are preoccupied with the question: Why suicide? We recollect details. And yet we must say that everything in the suicide's life- for now we know that all his life he was a suicide, led a suicide's existence- is part of the cause, the reason, for his suicide.

Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.

Lecter is so lucid, so perceptive; he's trained in psychiatry... and he's a mass murderer.

The world would be a much nicer place if people only used guns on themselves.

Somebody who attacks everybody has something missing.

If I turn up suicided in the morning, it was murder.

And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead (suicide note)

He went home one evening and drank three cups of tea with three lumps of sugar in each cup, cut his jugular with a razor three times and scrawled on a photograph of his wife with his dying hand goodbye, goodbye, goodbye