Soren Kierkegaard Quotes

Mattie sat at the table, obsessing, orbiting around herself. She was sick of her worried, hostile mind. It would have killed her long before, she felt, if it hadn't needed the transportation.

I'm very emotional; I think I may go mad in several years' time.

When you commit your life to something and it doesn't work out, it is a tough place to be. Suicide can be the spiritual reprieve of a faithless person. I knew I could always just end it, and there was solace in that.

Delia's arms were inscribed with a grid of self- inflicted wounds, an intricate text of self-loathing

Look at it this way: There are many here among us for whom the life force is best represented by the livid twitching of one tortured nerve, or even a full-scale anxiety attack. I do not subscribe to this point of view 100 percent, but I understand it, have lived it. Thus the shriek, the caterwaul, the chainsaw gnarlgnashing, the yowl and the whizz that decapitates may be reheard by the adventurous or emotionally damaged as mellifluous bursts of unarguable affirmation.

Suicides are timid murderers. Masochism instead of Sadism.

I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.

Here's the difficulty about suicide: it is an act of ambition that can be committed only when one has passed beyond ambition.

When men think much, they can rarely decide.

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.

I hit my head against the wall because I don't want to know all the terrible things that I know about. I don't want to feel all these wretched things, but they're in me already. If I don't get rid of them, I'm not ever going to feel anything else.

Fear and Guilt are the only enemies of man.

Suicide is a belated acquiescence in the opinion of one's wife's relatives.

I can't get my wrists to bleed, just don't know why suicide appeals to me.

We swung between madness and suicide ... it was beautiful!

Now the standard cure for one who is sunk is to consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering—this is an all-weather beatitude for gloom in general and fairly salutary day-time advice for everyone. But at three o’clock in the morning, a forgotten package has the same tragic importance as a death sentence, and the cure doesn’t work—and in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.

The thought of killing myself had slowed me down to five miles per hour. The thought of killing someone else stopped me completely.

I laugh, mirthless, a mad laugh. I savor the scowl on her face, the hate in her eyes. She was like a machine; she was cold and emotionless, bound by logic alone. And I broke her.

Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.

Zaphod felt he was teetering on the edge of madness and wondered if he shouldn't just jump over and have done with it.

There is only one effective antidote for mental suffering and that is physical pain.

It was not as easy to commit suicide as to contemplate it.

A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.

I can't sleep with you tonight, baby, my head's all messed up, you've no idea. It's somewhere else and it's full of voices and songs and bad things.

Not for nothing does the neurotic suffer - but not for anything very much, either.