#suicidal

I'm not a rich man, and Greg Lake is certainly not. I don't know how he can survive. I don't know how he can be that suicidal. But having said that, I'd love to be there to help Greg. ↗

— Keith Emerson

#greg #having #help #how #i

It would be simply suicidal to French Canadians to form a party by themselves. ↗

— Wilfrid Laurier

#form #french #party #simply #suicidal

Kurt had this dumb suicidal ideation - that's what I called it. I thought if we could live through this, we could live through anything. ↗

— Courtney Love

#called #could #dumb #had #i

Suicidal terrorists may have short shelf lives. ↗

— John McCarthy

#may #shelf #short #suicidal #terrorists

I'd fallen in love with a woman but she broke up with me and I was devastated. Six months later, I went into a suicidal depression from the break-up of the relationship, but I resolved to not do what my friends had done. And so I reached out for help. ↗

— Aron Ralston

#broke #depression #devastated #done #fallen

I have the insecurities of any actress, I suppose of any woman. Even the most beautiful ones feel unhappy. Look at Bardot: she was suicidal. But I like to play with the camera. I like to ham it up. ↗

— Chloe Sevigny

#any #beautiful #camera #even #feel

In America, for a brief time, people who followed Coltrane were studied and considered important, but it didn't last long. The result is that the kind of music I played in the '60's is completely dismissed in this country as a wrong turn, a suicidal effort. ↗

— Archie Shepp

#brief #coltrane #completely #considered #country

Well, darkness with humor... I'm not an extremely suicidal or sad person. ↗

— Peter Steele

#extremely #humor #i #person #sad

When I took the pills, I wanted to kill someone I hated. I didn't know that other Veronikas existed inside me, Veronikas that I could love. ↗

— Paulo Coelho

#decide #die #existence #hate #hospital

At eighteen, she already looks like a woman of sorrows and as her breaths start becoming shorter, tired of looking over her shoulder, she only wants to get away from this city where no one can fathom her love- boundless and profane and real, like her skin and her lips and the insides of her thighs. She knows she can smile, smell like the others. Her skin would bleed too if pricked and yet this reality does not belong to the ones sleeping on the platform floor; this reality is hers and her alone. Thus when she puts the mirror back, she rummages in her handbag, searching for that thing called identity: some of it lost somewhere in the railway colony she had just left behind, some in Sudhanshu’s left jacket pocket, the rest of it scattered here around broken teacups on railings, totally aberrant and arbitrary. ↗

— Kunal Sen

#suicidal #teenager #love