Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my
house—do not pass by like a dream.
About author
- Author's profession: Poet, Composer, Writer
- Nationality: indian
- Born: May 6, 1861
- Died: August 7, 1941
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It used to be said, not so long ago, that every suicide gave Satan special pleasure. I don't think that's true—unless it isn't true either that the Devil is a gentleman. If the Devil has no class at all, then okay, I agree: He gets a bang out of suicide. Because suicide is a mess. As a subject for study, suicide is perhaps uniquely incoherent. And the act itself is without shape and without form. The human project implodes, contorts inward—shameful, infantile, writhing, gesturing. It's a mess...
Martin Amis