Just a quick taste of historical fun today. The Guardian has a slideshow of famous authors and their last words. They must have picked the particularly awesome ones, because they’re all A material.
Emily Dickinson: “I must go in, the fog is rising.”
Robert Louis Stevenson: “What’s that? Do I look strange?”
Leo Tolstoy: “We all reveal … our manifestations … This manifestation is over … That’s all.”
Go through the slideshow, though, because it has details about their deathbed circumstances. I find many of them genuinely affecting.
That made me cry a bit.
A bit of the bit was for myself, I must confess.
Ditto. Isn’t it always, for everyone?
Thanks for posting this. I found several of the entries to be rather moving, too. I was particularly touched/intrigued in the Mark Twain and Virginia Woolf stories.
Twain’s link to Halley’s comet intrigued me as well, and Virginia Woolf was so painful rational about her mental illness.