Charles Bukowski Quotes
it does seemthe more we drinkthe better the wordsgo.
she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare.
the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis.
the world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem.
there are so many dayswhen living stops and pulls up and sitsand waits like a train on the rails.
I know that some nightin some bedroomsoonmy fingers willriftthroughsoft cleanhairsongs such as no radioplaysall sadness, grinninginto flow.
Once in a rare lifetime have you ever been in a roomful of people who only helped you when you looked at them, listened to them. this was one of those magic times. I knew it.
I could never acceptlife as it was, I could never gobbledown all itspoisonsbu there were parts, tenuous magic partsopen for theasking.
She had wild eyes, slightly insane. She also carried an overload of compassion that was real enough and which obviously cost her something.
there's no clarity.there was never meant to be clarity.
sometimes all we need to be able to continue aloneare the deadrattling the wallsthat close us in.
for meobedience to another is the decayof self
Why does a man destroy himself or what destroys him? I would have to judge that suicide is mostly the tool of the thinking man. The right to suicide should be the same as the right to love.
There is nothing that teaches you more than regrouping after failure and moving on. Yet most people are stricken with fear. They fear failure so much that they fail.
When I get down to my last dime I'll just walk over to skid row.""There are some real weirdos down there.""They're everywhere.
The centuries are sprinkled with rare magicwith divine creatureswho help us get past the common and extraordinary ills that beset us
the grace is being able to like rock music, symphony music, jazz …anything that contains the original energy ofjoy.
the people are the biggesthorror show on earth, have been forcenturies.
beware women grownoldwho were neveranything butyoung
and love is a word usedtoo much andmuchtoo soon.
regret is mostly caused by not havingdone anything.
sometimes it's hard to knowwhat todo.
I found the best thingI could dowas just to type awayat my own workand let the dyingdieas they always have.
one doesn't even think ofthe liverand if the liverdoesn't think ofus, that'sfine.
when I drive the freeways I see the soul of humanity ofmy city and it's ugly, ugly, ugly: the living have choked theheartaway.
I didn't know who tobelievebutone thing I doknow: when a man islivingmany claim relationshipsthat are hardlysoand after he dies, well, then it's everybody'sparty.
love needs too much help, he said.hate takes care of itself.
as the shadows assumeshapesI fight the slowretreatnowmy once-promisedwindlingdwindlingnowlighting new cigarettespouring moredrinksit has been a beautifulfightstillis.
the lies of centuries, the lies of love, the lies of Socrates and Blake and Christwill be your bedmates and tombstonesin a death that will never end.
my 6 foot goddessmakes me laughthe laughter of the mutilatedwho still needlove...she has saved mefrom everything that isnot here
Are there good governments and bad governments? No, there are only bad governments and worse governments.
the impossibility of being humanall too humanthis breathingin and outout and inthese punksthese cowardsthese championsthese mad dogs of glorymoving this little bit of light towardusimpossibly.
as a childi supposei was not quitenormal.my happiest times werewheni was left alone inthe house on asaturday.
animals never worry about Heaven or Hell. neither do I. maybe that's why we get along
There's no point in writing my kind of stuff, when they're printing that kind of stuff. So I gave up and started drinking.
Anything, anything to stop drowning in this dull, trivial and cowardly existence.
