Quotes About Tragedy

Worse, I convinced myself our tragedy was entirely her making. I spent years working myself into the very thing I swore she was: a righteous ball of hate.

No parents should see their child die, that such an event is like nature spun backward.

I wish I'd be murdered...Then I'd never have to worry again. When you die, you become perfect. I'd be like Princess Diana. Everyone loves her now.

There's something disturbing about not even bothering with a name. Whenever I see news stories about children who were killed by their parents, I think: But how could it be? They cared enough to give this kid a name, they had a moment—at least one moment—when they sifted through all the possibilities and picked one specific name for their child, decided what they would call their baby. How could you kill something you cared enough to name?

Everyone has a moment where life goes off the rails. Mine was the day Marian died. The day I picked up that knife is a tight second.

The quotes were good, if overpolished. I find this common, and in direct proportion to the amount of TV a subject watches. Not long ago, I interviewed a woman whose twenty-two-year-old daughter had just been murdered by her boyfriend, and she gave me a line straight from a legal drama I happened to catch the night before: I'd like to say that I pity him, but now I fear I'll never be able to pity again.

And people loved me. I was no longer the pity case (with, how weird, the dead sister). I was the pretty girl (with, how sad, the dead sister). And so I was popular.

My brother slaughtered my family when I was seven. My mom, two sisters, gone: bang bang, chop chop, choke choke.

What kind of woman gets slaughtered by her own son?

Shotgun blasts in a small hallway. The panicked, jaybird cries of my mother, still trying to save her kids with half her head gone.

Every tragedy that happens in the world happens to my mother, and this more than anything about her turns my stomach. She worries over people she's never met who have a spell of bad chance. She cries over news from across the globe. It's all too much for her, the cruelty of human beings

Fact: Somewhere around 2 a.m. on January 3, 1985, a person or persons killed three members of the Day family in their farmhouse in Kinnakee, Kansas. The deceased include Michelle Day, age ten; Debby Day, age nine; and the family matriarch, Patty Day, age thirty-two. Michelle Day was strangled; Debby Day died of axe wounds, Patty Day of two shotgun wounds, axe wounds, and deep cuts from a Bowie hunting knife.

Whenever i see new stories about children who were killed by their own parents i think ... but how could it be? They cared enough to give this kid a name, They had a moment at least one moment when they sifted through all the possibilities and picked one specific name for their child , decided what will they call their baby . How could you kill something you cared enough to name?

People always were , they always wanted to know, what kind of women gets slaughtered by her own son?

What did Romeo and Juliet do?" They died," I remind her gently. "Some mix-up with the poison-

It had been a seven-year string of bad luck, ever since their parents died in that house fire.

Prepare yourself for some bad news: Ronald Reagan's library just burned down. Both books were destroyed. But the real horror: He hadn't finished coloring either one of them.

The tragedy of the United States, thus far in this century, is not the crack-up of an empire, which we never knew what to do with in the first place, but the collapse of the idea of the citizen as someone autonomous whose private life is not subject to orders from above.

The 20th century is the probably most hideous ugly century of the history of the human race. More people were killed by war in the 20th century than ever in history.

They killed him because he was too innocent to live. He was young and ignorant and silly and he got involved. He had no more of a notion than any of you what the whole affair's about . . .

They killed him because he was too innocent to live. He was young and ignorant and silly and he got involved. He had no more of a notion than any of you what the whole affair's about, and you gave him money and York Harding's books on the East and said, 'Go ahead. Win the East for democracy.' He never saw anything he hadn't heard in a lecture hall, and his writers and his lecturers made a fool of him.

He sat heavily down on a tall tubular adjustable chair, which shortened suddenly under his weight and split him on the floor. Somebody always leaves a banana-skin on the scene of a tragedy.

They killed him because he was too innocent to live.

Somebody always leaves a banana-skin on the scene of tragedy.