Ernest Hemingway died by shooting himself with a shotgun in the mouth. It wasn’t a pistol. It wasn’t in the temple. It wasn’t by someone else’s hand. It was a shotgun, he pulled the trigger, and the shot went into his mouth. There is no other way that Ernest Hemingway could have died. For him, this was a perfect death.
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Albert Camus died young in a car crash. Though regrettable, and he was taken far before his time, this was a perfect death as it was an accident. Albert Camus could not have died anyway except by chance. For him, this was a perfect death.
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On his deathbed, Oscar Wilde is reported to have looked up and just before passing into the depths, and said, “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do…” Perfect.
What are some other perfect deaths? Or what would be yours? If I somehow get electrocuted to death while blogging, I’m going to be pissed.
you’ve got to be effing kidding me. you wait till i’m 13 timezones away to put up ‘perfect deaths’? oooh we’ll see who gets the big bedroom now. you’re in trouble mister. big bedroom trouble (that sounds hotter than intended, please discard).
another perfect death: hunter s. thompson- a president’s day suicide.
childbirth