Autumn

“I wonder if it will rain after we die. When you kill yourself, you don't know what happens next, afterward.”
― Albert Borris, Crash Into Me

“I can't deceive myself that out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that character is fate, nothing is real, past or future, when you are alone in your room with the clock ticking loudly into the false cheerful brilliance of the electric light. And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself, but to put myself back together again. Suicide will be for me only one means of violently reconquering myself, of brutally invading my being, of anticipating the unpredictable approaches of God. By suicide, I reintroduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will.”
― Antonin Artaud

“I can feel the hurt. There's something good about it. Mostly it makes me stop remembering.”
― Albert Borris, Crash Into Me