My suicide

Henri Roorda Van Eysinga (1870-1925), who also wrote under the name Balthasar, was a mathematics teacher in his life as an ordinary Swiss citizen. And because, in addition to teaching, he liked to write, he did not only produce this final little book, which announces and explains his suicide. He also wrote essays on pedagogy and even plays, poetry and various occasional writings, which he himself called “almanac prose”. [...]
“They say that the last to laugh is the one who laughs best. But that is probably false. The man who is the last to laugh will hardly laugh at all. His light laughter will be very little compared to the Homeric laughter of youth.” Thought extracted from his essay “Laughter and those who laugh”. Last sentence of that essay: “My grandmother was right: we are not here on earth to amuse ourselves.” 

On November 7, 1925 Roorda says goodbye to his friends at the café, goes home, drinks half a bottle of Port wine and shoots himself in the heart.

He was a man who passionately loved life, he himself says so in this “in articulo mortis” confession, which is My Suicide. But, as it happens, it also comes in books: he who passionately loves kills the one he loves. Or that which he loves. In this particular case, life. 

« It is the well-behaved people, the friends of order, who ensure the stability of the social edifice. There must be many of them. »