A Letter to the New York Times on the Subject of Suicide

There's nothing to live for, nor is there anything to die for. I would like, Mr. Editor, for this letter to make clear to the youth of your city that the only way to show disdain for life is to accept it. Life isn't worth the trouble it takes to leave it . . . Suicide is very comfortable, too comfortable: I haven't committed suicide. I wouldn't want to leave regretting not having taken with me the Statue of Liberty, or love, or the United States.
I send my most energetic protest against this absurd wave of suspension-bridge suicides. Youth of New York: choose sumptuous hotels if you want to leave this life. Some hotels are, frankly, rather literary. (After all, the world of letters rests in the hotels of the imagination.) In Europe they've known this for a long time and consider suicides elegant only if they happen in places like the Ritz.