A Quote by Edward Dahlberg

When one realizes that his life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels. — © Edward Dahlberg
When one realizes that his life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels.
...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.
The wife who submits to sexual intercourse against her wishes or desires, virtually commits suicide; while the husband who compels it, commits murder.
That man is wisest who, like Socrates, realizes that his wisdom is worthless
Every seventeen minutes in America, someone commits suicide. Mostly, I have been impressed by how little value our society puts on saving the lives of those who are in such despair as to want to end them. It is a societal illusion that suicide is rare. It is not.
Science commits suicide when it adopts a creed.
No one commits suicide because they want to die.
Trickery succeeds sometimes, but it always commits suicide.
If society abolishes poetry it commits spiritual suicide.
I think once a person realizes that they are every day either sowing into their life either potential success, or sowing into their life potential failure, they would all of a sudden go okay, I've got to figure out what I'm going to do.
The religion that is afraid of science dishonors God and commits suicide.
Hitler gave us orders - and we believed in him. Then he commits suicide and leaves us to bear the guilt. He should have remained alive to bear his share.
Two armies that fight each other is like one large army that commits suicide.
To the poet, his travels, his adventures, his loves, his indignations are finally resolved in verse, and this, in the end becomes his permanent, indestructible life.
A man must generally get away some hundreds or thousands of miles from home before he can be said to begin his travels. Why not begin his travels at home? Would he have to go far or look very closely to discover novelties? The traveler who, in this sense, pursues his travels at home, has the advantage at any rate of a long residence in the country to make his observations correct and profitable. Now the American goes to England, while the Englishman comes to America, in order to describe the country.
Suicides aren't heroic in my opinion. And I don't think anybody ever really knows why somebody commits suicide.
The difference between a non-suicide and an ex-suicide leaving the house for work, at eight o'clock on an ordinary morning: The non-suicide is a little traveling suck of care, sucking care with him from the past and being sucked toward care in the future. His breath is high in his chest. The ex-suicide opens his front door, sits down on the steps, and laughs. Since he has the option of being dead, he has nothing to lose by being alive. It is good to be alive. He goes to work because he doesn't have to.
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