John Gay Quotes

I know I am at the end. I shall never get better, dear.

One-third of our people were dangerously ill, getting worse hourly, and we felt sure of meeting the same fate, with death as our only prospect, which in such a country was much worse yet.

I think I definitely got scared by the second or third time a doctor told me I was dying.

Please believe that I do this because I am convinced that my illness cannot be helped for any length of time and I cannot bear to be a burden on anyone any longer.

Marriage is the death of hope.

Man is born in a day, and he dies in a day, and the thing is easily over; but to have a sick heart for three-fourths of one's lifetime is simply to have death renewed every morning; and life at that price is not worth living.

The ending is one of my blackest, utterly without hope of any sort.

To be thoroughly conversant with Man’s heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of Despair

Just take me with you. Please. I cant. Please, Papa. I cant. I cant hold my son dead in my arms. I thought I could but I cant.

Time enough to think of the future when you haven't any future to think of.

When you're reading the news and sometimes you just think, "How bad can things get"?

Come aboard if your destination is oblivion- it should be our next stop. We can sit together. You can have the window seat if you want. But it's a sad view.

Either give me your hand, or end it now, and put us both out of our misery

Hope is a punishable offense. The verdict is always death; one more death of the heart.

I can almost understand why people leap from bridges.

There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue.

It was easy not to think of my future; I didn't have one.

When he heard there was nothing to eat, he sat down and wept… “Why did I ever wake up!” he cried.

The truth is that I feel totally helpless, or totally inconsolable, to be more honest. I’m not trying to hide it, but it’s something you’re not to worry about.

Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.

Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!

Sickness disgusts us with death, and we wish to get well, which is a way of wishing to live. But weakness and suffering, with manifold bodily woes, soon discourage the invalid from trying to regain ground: he tires of those respites which are but snares, of that faltering strength, those ardors cut short, and that perpetual lying in wait for the next attack.

You can hide beneath the covers and study your pain, make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain. Waste your summer praying in vain, for a savior to rise from these streets.

I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.

I could happily lie down and die sometimes.