A Quote by Lesley Boone

I tried to commit suicide by sticking my head in the oven, but there was a cake in it. — © Lesley Boone
I tried to commit suicide by sticking my head in the oven, but there was a cake in it.
I tried to commit suicide one day. It was a very Woody Allen-type suicide. I turned on the gas and left all the windows open.
Nothing in my life has ever made me want to commit suicide more than people's reaction to my trying to commit suicide.
I was baking cakes for a gourmet shop and put two chocolate cakes in oven to bake and when I opened the oven an hour later, they were raw - the oven wasn't working. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't borrow an oven and I didn't want to waste the batter, so I came up with the idea of steaming them and they came out great! Thick and fudgy, like pudding cake. That happy accident was always in the back of mind.
He was so depressed, he tried to commit suicide by inhaling next to an Armenian.
I tried to commit suicide because I sacrificed everything for Hitler. And that man whom we sacrificed everything for left us all alone. If he had committed suicide four years before, it would have been all right.
It wasn't until '94 when I tried to commit suicide that I realized that it wasn't about the money.
How terrible to be alcoholic. You just want to quietly soothe and maybe poison yourself, but you end up poisoning those around you as well, like trying to commit suicide with a gas oven and unwittingly murdering your neighbors.
A cake is a very good test of an oven: if it browns too much on one side and not on the other, it's not your fault - you need to have your oven checked.
I have friends who've tried suicide many times and haven't succeeded. I myself made an attempt, so I had a connection with that sort of group of people who have tried suicide at one time in their lives.
They all think any minute I'm going to commit suicide. What a joke. The truth of course is the exact opposite: suicide is the only thing that keeps me alive. Whenever everything else fails, all I have to do is consider suicide and in two seconds I'm as cheerful as a nitwit. But if I could not kill myself -- ah then, I would. I can do without nembutal or murder mysteries but not without suicide.
I was at Yale from 1953 to 1957, and I tried to commit suicide in my freshman year because I was gay, and I thought I was the only person in the school who was. I was just totally and utterly miserable.
They [US soldiers] started to commit suicide on the Baghdad walls. We will encourage them to double their suicide attempts.
So I sit there kicked my heels, thinking about New Orleans, and watching a morbid blue-bottle fly attempt to commit suicide by butting his head against the windowpane.
I once tried to commit suicide by jumping off a building...I changed my mind at the last minute, so I just flipped over and landed on my feet. Two little kittens nearby saw what happened and one turns to the other and says, "See, that's how it's done."
I remained basically anonymous for almost 17 years. I, in those 17 years, I tried to commit suicide a couple of times. I was very ashamed of what I had done, and I was looking for forgiveness not only from God but from myself.
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.
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