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we only asked for leopards to guard our thinning dreams.

Charles Bukowski

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Charles Bukowski
Age: 73 †
Born: 1920
Born: August 16
Died: 1994
Died: March 9
Actor
Author
Autobiographer
Columnist
Diarist
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Dreams
Dream
Thinning
Leopards
Guard
Asked

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What? You’d dare drink right after getting out of jail for intoxication?” That’s when you need a drink the most.
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some men never die and some men never live but we're all alive tonight.
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People who believe in politics are like people who believe in God: they are sucking wind through bent straws.
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That's what friendship means: sharing the prejudice of experience.
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Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience.
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I don’t understand people, never will. It looks like I got to travel pretty much alone.
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Pain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire.... Pain arrives, BANG, and there it is, it sits on you. It's real. And to anybody watching, you look foolish. Like you've suddenly become an idiot. There's no cure for it unless you know somebody who understands how you feel, and knows how to help.
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My dear, Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover. ~ Falsely yours
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I feel no grief for being called something which I am not in fact, it's enthralling, somehow, like a good back rub
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and love is a word used too much and much too soon.
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one can never be sure whether it's good poetry or bad acid
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I wasn’t going anywhere and neither was the rest of the world. We were all just hanging around waiting to die and meanwhile doing little things to fill the space. Some of use weren’t even doing little things. We were vegetables.
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I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.
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I write right off the typer. I call it my machinegun. I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine and listening to classical music on the radio and smoking mangalore ganesh beedies.
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Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.
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Love is a form of prejudice. I have too many other prejudices.
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I knew I was strong, and maybe like they said, crazy. But I had this feeling inside of me that something real was there.
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I was fairly poor but most of my money went for wine and classical music. I loved to mix the two together.
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