Friday, November 21, 2008

"All my selves will soon be steepenwolves"

"Let suicide be as stupid, cowardly, shabby as you please, call it an infamous and ignominious escape; still, any escape, even the most ignominious, from this treadmill of suffering was the only thing to wish for." (69)

"I had in my medicine chest an excellent means of stilling pain--an unusually strong tincture of laudanum. Once when despair had again got the better of me I had swallowed a big dose of it--enough to kill six men, and yet it had not killed me. I fell asleep, it is true, and lay for several hours completely stupefied. My empty brain was burning and I had almost lost my memory. Apart from a spell of insomnia and severe pains in the stomach no trace of the poison was left." (70)

"I had no motives, no incentives to exert myself, no duties." (74)

"We went into the dining room, and while I racked my brains again and again for something harmless to say, I ate more than I was accustomed to do and felt myself growing more wretched every moment. Good heavens, I thought all the while, why do we put ourselves to such exertions?" (80)

1 comment:

Michael said...

Isn't this book in the end, about spiritual healing and transcending the duality of human nature? By dwelling on the passages of suicide, you may be missing the larger message of the book. Harry is indeed, drawn deeply towards despair but through his judgment by Mozart, finally obtains a balance between the human and divine. Ah, the struggle of us glorious ruins.