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I am this fiery snail crawling home.

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
Snail
Crawling
Fiery
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More quotes by Charles Bukowski

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my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.
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You have to die a few times before you can really live.
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… and we are in bed together laughing and we don’t care about anything.
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There's a small balcony here, the door is open and I can see the lights of the cars on the Harbor Freeway south, they never stop, that roll of lights, on and on. All those people. What are they doing? What are they thinking? We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't.
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Look, let me put it this way: with me, you’re number one and there isn’t even a number two.
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agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.
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some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about.
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hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.
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I had no Freedom. I had nothing.
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Love dries up, I thought as I walked back to the bathroom, even faster than sperm.
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Most people are much better at saying things in letters than in conversation, and some people can write artistic, inventive letters, but when they try a poem or story or novel they become pretentious.
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they simply never understand, do they, that sometimes solitude is one of the most beautiful things on earth?
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Homosexuals are delicate and bad poetry is delicate and [Allen] Ginsberg turned the tables by making homosexual poetry strong poetry, almost manly poetry but in the long run, the homo will remain the homo and not the poet.
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It was hard for me to believe. When recess was over I sat in class and thought about it. My mother had a hole and my father had a dong that shot juice. How could they have things like that and walk around as if everything was normal, and talk about things, and then do it and not tell anybody?
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It's possible to love a human being if you don't know them too well.
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she knew what she wanted and it wasn't / me. / I know more women like that than any / other kind.
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But my whole life has been a matter of fighting for one simple hour to do what I want to do. There was always something getting in the way of my getting to myself.
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the best often die by their own hand just to get away, and those left behind can never quite understand why anybody would ever want to get away from them
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there must be a way. surely there must be a way that we have not yet thought of. who put this brain inside of me? it cries it demands it says that there is a chance. it will not say no.
Charles Bukowski
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there's no clarity. there was never meant to be clarity.
Charles Bukowski