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I have loved you woman as surely as I have named you rust and sand and nylon.

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
Nylon
Rust
Named
Sand
Surely
Loved
Woman

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bad writing's like bad women: there's just not much you can do about it
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the masses are everywhere they know how to do things: they have sane and deadly angers for sane and deadly things.
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What's genius? I don't know but I do know that the difference between a madman and a professional is that a pro does as well as he can within what he has set out to do and a madman does exceptionally well at what he can't help doing.
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nothing can save you except writing. it keeps the walls from failing.
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They never pay the slaves enough so they can get free, just enough so they can stay alive and come back to work.
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Capitalism has survived communism. Now, it eats away at itself.
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and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.
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when I was a boy I used to dream of becoming the village idiot. I used to lie in bed and imagine myself the happy idiot able to get food easily ...and easy sympathy, a planned confusion of not too much love or effort. some would claim that I have succeeded.
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It was too much. The comfortable people made comfortable jokes about weather and things but I sat mostly silent saying a word or so when necessary a word or so trying to hide from them the fact that I was a fool and feeling terrible And I was numb, numb again, numb again again and again, numbness and pain swelling in me.
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I am a poem. There is no way out.
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whiskey makes the heart beat faster but it sure doesn't help the mind and isn't it funny how you can ache just from the deadly drone of existence?
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I am too sick to lay down the sidewalks frighten me the whole damned city frightens me, what I will become what I have become frightens me.
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the people are the biggest horror show on earth, have been for centuries.
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I'm only interested in poetry.
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We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
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First paycheck I get, I thought, I'm going to get myself a room near the downtown L.A. Public Library.
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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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Bullfighting can be an art Boxing can be an art Loving can be an art Opening a can of sardines can be an art
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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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Let' em learn or let' em die
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