A Quote by Claude Lelouch

The perfect crime is when you push someone to suicide. I once read a study that said everyone in the course of their life has thought of killing someone. — © Claude Lelouch
The perfect crime is when you push someone to suicide. I once read a study that said everyone in the course of their life has thought of killing someone.
That sounds so weird: "kill yourself." It makes it sound like you tried to murder someone, only that someone is you. But killing someone is wrong, and I don't think suicide is. It's my life, right? I should be able to end it if I want to. I don't think it's a sin.
The whole of life is as music and in order to study life we must study it as music. It is not only study, it is also practice which makes man perfect. If someone tells me that a certain person is miserable or wretched or distressed, my answer will be that he is out of tune.
Someone once said to me, 'Are you telling me that chair isn't real, that it's only thought?' I said 'Of course the chair is real. But it comes to you via Thought
It is tempting when looking at the life of anyone who has committed suicide to read into the decision to die a vastly complex web of reasons; and, of course, such complexity is warranted. No one illness or event causes suicide; and certainly no one knows all, or perhaps even most, of the motivations behind the killing of the self. But psychopathology is almost always there, and its deadliness is fierce. Love, success, and friendship are not always enough to counter the pain and destructiveness of severe mental illness
Is it a crime when you love someone so much that you can't stand the thought of them changing? Is it a crime when you love someone so much that you can't see clearly?
The thought of killing myself had slowed me down to five miles per hour. The thought of killing someone else stopped me completely.
There are two parts to influence: First, influence is powerful; and second, influence is subtle. You wouldn't let someone push you off course, but you might let someone nudge you off course and not even realize it.
...we ask: Why suicide? We search for reasons, causes, and so on.... We follow the course of the life he has now so suddenly terminated as far back as we can. For days we are preoccupied with the question: Why suicide? We recollect details. And yet we must say that everything in the suicide's life- for now we know that all his life he was a suicide, led a suicide's existence- is part of the cause, the reason, for his suicide.
You have to understand, child. Everyone wants someone in their life, someone who cares for them, someone they can care for. Even a queen.
Everyone saves someone at least once. Just as he kills someone at least once. Even though he may not know it.
?We need someone to get the room?s attention,? I said. ?Someone not afraid to make a spectacle—I mean, besides me, of course.?
I never read to kill time. Killing time is like killing someone's wife or a child. There is nothing more precious for me than time.
How about Proust's In Search of Lost Time?" Tamaru asked. "If you've never read it this would be a good opportunity to read the whole thing." "Have you read it?" "No, I haven't been in jail, or had to hide out for a long time. Someone once said unless you have those kinds of opportunities, you can't read the whole of Proust.
Doing action, the thing is it's cool to watch it, and as a guy I like seeing it. With the romance thing it's something everyone can relate to. Once you have love as a motivator in a story, I think everyone can do anything. Once someone's in love they can do the craziest thing that no one's ever thought of. You have that excuse to do whatever you want.
Transmitting one's flaws [through procreation] to someone else is a crime. I could never consent to give life to someone who would inherent my ailments.
I spent a lot of time looking at that picture. Wondering what I’d think of that girl, if I was someone else, seeing how easily she sits in her boyfriend’s lap, laughing, with his arms around her. I would have thought her life was perfect, the way I once thought Cass’s was. It was too easy, I was learning, to just assume things.
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