The Last Words Of Famous Writers
When youāve dedicated your life to words, itās important to go out eloquently.
Ernest Hemingway: āGoodnight my kitten.ā Spoken to his wife before he killed himself.
Jane Austen: āI want nothing but death.ā In response to her sister, Cassandra, who was asking her if she wanted anything.
J.M Barrie: āI canāt sleep.ā
L. Frank Baum: āNow I can cross the shifting sands.ā
Edgar Allan Poe: āLord help my poor soul.ā
Thomas Hobbes: āI am about to take my last voyage, a great leap into the dark,ā
Alfred Jarry: āI am dyingā¦please, bring me a toothpick.ā
Hunter S. Thompson: āRelax ā this wonāt hurt.ā
Henrik Ibsen: āOn the contrary!ā
Anton Chekhov: āI havenāt had champagne for a long time.ā
Mark Twain: āGood bye. If we meetāā Spoken to his daughter Clara.
Louisa May Alcott: āIs it not meningitis?ā Alcott did not have meningitis, though she believed it to be so. She died from mercury poison.
Jean Cocteau: āSince the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying.ā
Washington Irving: āI have to set my pillows one more night, when will this end already?ā
Leo Tolstoy: āBut the peasantsā¦how do the peasants die?ā
Hans Christian Andersen: āDonāt ask me how I am! I understand nothing more.ā
Charles Dickens: āOn the ground!ā He suffered a stroke outside his home and was asking to be laid on the ground.
H.G. Wells: āGo away! Iām all right.ā He didnāt know he was dying.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: āMore light.ā
W.C. Fields: āGoddamn the whole fucking world and everyone in it except you, Carlotta!ā āCarlottaā was Carlotta Monti, actress and his mistress.
Voltaire: āNow, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies.ā When asked by a priest to renounce Satan.
Dylan Thomas: āIāve had 18 straight whiskiesā¦I think thatās the record.ā
George Bernard Shaw: āDying is easy, comedy is hard.ā
Henry David Thoreau: āMooseā¦Indian.ā
James Joyce: āDoes nobody understand?ā
Oscar Wilde: āEither the wallpaper goes, or I do.āĀ
Bob Hope: āSurprise me.ā He was responding to his wife asking where he wanted to be buried.
Roald Dahlās last words are commonly believed to be āyou know, Iām not frightened. Itās just that I will miss you all so much!ā which are the perfect last words. But, after he appeared to fall unconscious, a nurse injected him with morphine to ease his passing. His actual last words were a whispered āow, fuckā
Salvador Dali hoped his last words would beĀ āI do not believe in my death,ā but instead, they were actually,Ā āWhere is my clock?ā
Emily Dickinson:Ā āI must go in, the fog is rising.ā
Tag yourself. Iām HG Wells.
Iām James Joyce
No, but no one is explaining Ibsen!!
He had been really fucking sick for days, and woke up from a feverish night. His nurse? Wife? Asked him if he was feeling better. He smiled, said āOn the contrary!ā And died.
Supreme power move from my man Ibsen.
Bob Hope
















