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...in that drunken place you would like to hand your heart to her and say touch it but then give it back.

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
Hands
Give
Back
Giving
Heart
Drunken
Would
Touch
Like
Hand
Place

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I had decided against religion a couple of years back. If it were true, it made fools out of people, or it drew fools. And if it weren't true, the fools were all the more foolish. What I need is a good doctor, I thought. You either lived or died.
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That's how it is with books, isn't it: They're not in a hurry. They'll wait for you till you're ready. People empty me. I have to go away to refill.
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the beautiful are found in the edge of a room crumpled into spiders and needles and silence and we can never understand why they left,they were so beautiful. they dont make it, the beautiful die young and leave the ugly to their ugly lives.
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The years have gone by quickly. Death sits in the seat next to me. We make a lovely couple.
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In New York you've got to have all the luck.
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I would say that Mickey Mouse has a greater influence on the American public than Shakespeare, Milton, Dante, Rabelais, Shostakovitch, Lenin, and/or Van Gogh. Which says 'What?' about the American Public. Disneyland remains the central attraction of Southern California, but the graveyard remains our reality.
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I never write in the daytime. It's like running through the shopping mall with your clothes off. Everybody can see you. At night ... that's when you pull the tricks ... magic.
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If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start.
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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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Once in a dream I saw a snake swallowing its own tail, it swallowed and swallowed until it got halfway round, and there it stopped and there it stayed, it was stuffed with its own self. Some fix, that. We only have ourselves to go on, and it's enough.
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I was beaten down long ago in some alley in another world.
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He had long nostril hairs, powerfully intimidating, like an unscheduled nightmare.
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the whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.
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in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and death and the lie of love.
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The streets were full of insane & dull people. Most of them lived in nice houses and didn't seem to work, and you wondered how they did it.
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Trouble and pain were what kept a man alive. Or trying to avoid trouble and pain. It was a full time job.
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It’s when you hide things that you choke on them.
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Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.
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Love dries up, I thought as I walked back to the bathroom, even faster than sperm.
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