Anthony Jeselnik Quotes

That, in essence, is the catastrophe of suicide for those who survive: not only the loss of someone, but the loss of the chance to persuade that person to act differently, the loss of the chance to connect.

...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.

That's the thing about suicide. Try as you might to remember how a person lived his life, you always end up thinking about how he ended it.

I have always been terrified of the death of my parents. I never knew if I could count on myself. I never knew if that would send me over the edge.

There is something great and terrible about suicide.

When suicide hit my family, we learned first-hand that no one is immune from what is now the 10th leading cause of death in the US.

Suicide carries in its aftermath a level of confusion and devastation that is, for the most part, beyond description.

A Cambridge lady, hearing of the latest Suicide, said to her friend, turning off TV for tea, "Well, my dear, doesn't it seem a little like going where you haven't been invited?"

Through the healing process of time-and through medical intervention or hospitalization in many cases-most people survive depression which may be its only blessing; but to the tragic legion who are compelled to destroy themselves there should be no more reproof attached than to the victims of terminal cancer.

Like sex, poverty and power, suicide may always be with us. But like them again, the actual form is takes is essentially time-specific and culture-bound, not only in the past but in the present too. The people who took their lives, the paths which led them to that end, and the experience of dying in this way were deeply influenced by specific historical circumstances. Only by making a greater effort at historical understanding can this most secret house of death be made to yield up more of its confidences.

Suicide is cheating the doctor out of job.

Looking at suicide—the sheer numbers, the pain leading up to it, and the suffering left behind—is harrowing. For every moment of exuberance in the science, or in the success of governments, there is a matching and terrible reality of the deaths themselves: the young deaths, the violent deaths, the unnecessary deaths

in the nineteenth year and the eleventh month speak your tattered Kaddish for all suicides: Praise to life though it crumbled in like a tunnel on ones we knew and loved Praise to life though its windows blew shut on the breathing-room of ones we knew and loved Praise to life though ones we knew and loved loved it badly, too well, and not enough Praise to life though it tightened like a knot on the hearts of ones we thought we knew loved us Praise to life giving room and reason to ones we knew and loved who felt unpraisable. Praise to them, how they loved it, when they could.

It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved them, and that they hadn't heard us calling, still do not hear us, up here in the tree house with our thinning hair and soft bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all time, alone in suicide, which is deeper than death, and where we will never find the pieces to put them back together.

His avenging angel had come to call him home. A suicide was waiting for him back in his own world, and by now he ought to have learned enough to get through it successfully.

When attempted self-destruction does not cure a man of life, it cures him of voluntary death.

Suicide is the only way out.

I contemplated suicide. My main concern was that I would not make the New York Times obituary page.

I can almost understand why people leap from bridges.

I do see that there is an argument against suicide: the grief of the worshipers left behind, the awful famine in their hearts, these are too costly terms for the release.

I never felt like dying was a good idea.

I would like to do my own eulogy, and then shoot myself and then get in the coffin.

Suicide note. "To my friends. My work is done why wait?"

When people kill themselves, they think they're ending the pain, but all they're doing is passing it on to those they leave behind.

Barrel of the gun, rounds one two three She says I have to pick: choose you, or choose me Metal to the temple, the explosion is deafening Lick the blood that covers me She’s the last one standing “Roulette” Collateral Damage, Track 11