It is always consoling to think of suicide: in that way one gets through many a bad night.
To die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Death freely chosen, death at the right time, brightly and cheerfully accomplished amid children and witnesses: then a real farewell is still possible, as the one who is taking leave is still there; also a real estimate of what one has wished, drawing the sum of one's life--all in opposition to the wretched and revolting comedy that Christianity has made of the hour of death.
When one does away with oneself one does the most estimable thing possible: one thereby almost deserves to live.
"State," I call it, where they all drink poison, the good and the wicked; "state," where they all lose themselves, the good and the wicked; "state," where they all call their slow suicide-"life."
The relatives of a suicide hold it against him that out of consideration for their reputation he did not remain alive.
Thinking about suicide is a potent consolation: it helps us to get through many a bad night.
The thought of suicide is a great source of comfort: with it a calm passage is to be made across many a bad night.
There is a certain right by which we many deprive a man of life, but none by which we may deprive him of death; this is mere cruelty.