faxmachineanthems

Literary Last Words

Often apocryphal or outright fabricated, but always intriguing. 

I don’t know. [Peter Abelard (1079-1142); French philosopher and theologian.]

Is it not meningitis? [Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888), American novelist, died from mercury poisoning (complications from calomel used to treat an earlier bout of typhoid fever.)]

I’m bored.  I’m bored. [Gabriele D’Annunzo (1863-1938) Italian poet, novelist, playwright, died of a stroke.]

Nothing, but death. [Jane Austen (1775-1817), English novelist, when asked by her sister, Cassandra, if there was anything she wanted.  Died from Addison’s disease.]

Take courage, Charlotte, take courage. [Anne Brontë (1820-1849), English novelist and poet, died of pulmonary tuberculosis.]

If you will send for a doctor, I will see him now. [Emily Jane Brontë (1818-1848), English novelist and poet, died of tuberculosis.]

Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight. [Lord Byron (1788-1824), British poet, died from fever contracted in Greece.]

So this is Death—well— [Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881), Scottish writer and essayist.]

Good-bye, everybody. [Hart Crane (1899-1932), American poet, right before jumping overboard into the Gulf of Mexico.]

Let us go in; the fog is rising. [Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), American poet, died of Bright’s disease.]

More light! [Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), German writer.]

Write…write…pencil…paper. [Heinrich Heine (1797-1856) German poet, died from chronic lead poisoning.]

On the contrary! [Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906), Norwegian playwright, died from a series of strokes.  His quote was said in response to a nurse who said he seemed to be improving.]

Well, I must arrange my pillows for another weary night!  When will this end? [Washington Irving (1783-1859), American author, died from a heart attack in his bedroom.]

Does nobody understand? [James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author, playwright and poet, died from complications of surgery for a perforated ulcer.]

Go on, get out—last words are for fools who haven’t said enough. [Karl Marx (1818-1883), German philosopher.]

Human life is limited; but I would like to live forever. [Yukio Mishima (1925-1970), Japanese novelist, committed seppuku after a failed attempt at a coup d’etat restoring the powers of the emperor.]

It has all been most interesting. [Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689-1762), English writer.]

Put that bloody cigarette out. [H.H. Munro aka Saki (1870-1916), British writer, killed suddenly in WWI by a sniper’s bullet.]

Born in a hotel room—and God damn it—died in a hotel room. [Eugene O’Neill (1888-1953), American dramatist, died from complications of depression, alcoholism and cerebellar cortical atrophy.]

Lord help my poor soul. [Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), American writer and poet, died from unknown causes after collapsing in the street.]

Moose. Indian. [Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), American author and poet, died from tuberculosis.]

Go away. I’m all right. [H.G. Wells (1866-1946), English author, died of complications from diabetes or liver cancer.]

Either that wallpaper goes, or I do. [Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), Irish playwright, poet and author, died from cerebral meningitis.]