My photo
A lover of the liberal arts, especially antiquity in its diverse forms, I am nonetheless wholly devoted to, utterly transformed by divine revelation. I seek to know the thought of the past, articulate my deepest longings aroused by the wise, and understand the uneasy relationship between reason and revelation; all for the sake of proper action and contemplation, both now and in the future.



A man in my position must inevitably consider, however briefly and abstractly, the seeming solution of suicide. It would, after all, end the enormous frustration concerning which I have written elsewhere.

Others have contemplated suicide, and perhaps this post shall be nothing but an offense to them, should they read it. Perhaps it was but a passing fancy (albeit a dark one) of mine, but I soon realized three objections which as far as I may tell, permanently rule out the possibility of my suicide:

  • I like living. Death is so terribly final, while life has ever so many possibilities. It seems a shame to abandon even such life as mine. 
  • A suicide for these reasons would be a fully conscious rejection of all life, an insult to every good and beautiful thing, and thus would almost certainly place me in Hell. 
  • I did not choose to live: my life was a gift to me. Since my birth into this world was unfree, it seems churlish and base to reject this great gift based only on accidental circumstances. Such behavior does not become a gentleman.
Instead of a potentially attractive choice, even the word has become a great horror.

No comments: