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Suicide: Quotations from Shakespearian Quotations
Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine, That cravens my weak hand.— Cym. iii. 1.
To be, or not to be, that is the question :- Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune; Or, to take arms against a sea of troubles, And, by opposing, end them? To die, -to sleep,- No more ;-and, by sleep, to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, -'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die; to sleep; ! To sleep! perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To groan and sweat under a weary life; But that the dread of something after death,- That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, -puzzles the will; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others, that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard their currents turn awry,— H. iii. 1
And lose the name of action. Even by the rule of that philosophy, By which I did blame Cato for the death Which he did give himself:-I know not how, But I do find it cowardly and vile, For fear of what might fall, so to prevent The time of life:-arming myself with patience, To stay the providence of some high powers, That govern us below.— J.C. v. L
He is dead: Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand Which writ his honour in the acts it did, Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,— A.C. v. 1.
Splitted the heart. All's but naught; Patience is sottish; and impatience does Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin, To rush into the secret house of death, Ere death dare come to us?— A. C. iv. 13.
The more pity, that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their— H. V. 1
even Christian. My desolation does begin to make A better life: 'Tis paltry to be Cæsar; Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, A minister of her will: And it is great To do that thing which ends all other deeds; Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change. A. C. v. 2 Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.— J. C. i. 3.
Every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity.— J. C. i. 3.