“Either that Wallpaper goes or I do” – The Famous Last Words of Authors

"Take away those pillows.  I shall need them no more.” – Lewis Carroll before death.

As the famous Irish writer Oscar Wilde lay dying of meningitis on 30 November 1900 in a dingy Parisan hotel which he had been forcefully exiled to by the greater good of society, he is famously said to have remarked, “Either that Wallpaper goes or I do.”  It’s a great story and gives us the image of a still defiantly witty Wilde that we long for but is impossible to verify.

It is not the only story of the dying words of famous writers however.  There are many.
Welsh poet Dylan Thomas is quoted as saying, “I’ve just had 18 straight whiskeys.  I think that’s the record,” before dying.  Gonzo journalism inventor Hunter S Thompson wrote the final words, “Relax.  It won’t hurt,” before he tragically shot himself in the head.

In 1904 Anton Chekhov was dying from tuberculosis.  His doctor administered morphine and gave the Russian author a glass of champagne.  He drained it, said, “It’s a long time since I’ve drunk champagne,” and slipped quietly into death.

When Alexander Popes doctor attempted to calm him before death by telling him that he looked well, Pope snapped, “Here I am, dying of a hundred good symptoms.”  Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen had a similar view of his doctors positive diagnosis.  When told he was going to be fine Ibsen replied, “On the contrary.”

 Irish writer Frank O Connor was equally dismissive of those around him at the end when he told them bluntly, “I hope you don’t expect me to entertain you.”  Franz Kafka told a doctor who was unwilling to give him a lethal dose of morphine, “Kill me! Or you are a murderer.”  HG Wells had a much different outlook shouting at those around him, “Go away, I’m alright.”

James Joyce, perhaps realising that his work was being hijacked by pretentious yuppies asked, “Does no one understand me?” before death.  Equally as sad are the final words of Charlotte Bronte, who said the following to her husband of nine months, “Oh I’m not going to die am I?  He won’t separate us.  We’ve been so happy.”

When asked to renounce the devil on his deathbed, Voltaire remarked, “Now, now my good man.  This is no time for making enemies.”  Brendan Behan was also quick witted in the face of death when he thanked a nun who had attended him by saying, “Thank you sister.  May you be the mother of a bishop.”

Russian supremo Leo Tolstoy stood firm behind his convictions at the time of death.  When asked to return to the Orthodox Church which had excommunicated him, Tolstoy said, “Even in the valley of shadow of death, two and two do not make six.”