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They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.
Charles Bukowski
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Charles Bukowski
Age: 73 †
Born: 1920
Born: August 16
Died: 1994
Died: March 9
Actor
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Henry Charles Bukowski
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charles bukowski
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More quotes by Charles Bukowski
Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience.
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places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you notice that?
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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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eleven months. now she's gone gone as they go.
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Never trust a man in a jumpsuit
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There's no way I can stop writing, it's a form of insanity.
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The pest, in a sense, is a very superior being to us: he knows where to find us and how--usually in the bath or in sexual intercourse or asleep.
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When a writer is swayed with his fame and his fortune, you can float him down the river with the turds.
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one more creature dizzy with love
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What were you going to do tonight? I was going to listen to the songs of Rachmaninoff. Who's that? A dead Russian.
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unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it
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sometimes I hate you, she said.
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I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.
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Getting drunk was good. I decided that I would always like getting drunk. It took away the obvious and maybe if you could get away from the obvious often enough, you wouldn't become so obvious yourself.
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mercy, I think, doesn't the human race know anything about mercy?
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Complaint is often the result of an insufficient ability to live within the obvious restrictions of this god damned cage.
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there are policemen in the street and angels in the clouds
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I don't know about other people, but when I wake up in the morning and put my shoes on, I think, Jesus Christ, now what?
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morning night and noon the traffic moves through and the murder and treachery of friends and lovers and all the people move through you. pain is the joy of knowing the unkindest truth that arrives without warning. life is being alone death is being alone. even the fools weep morning night and noon.
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stay with the beer. beer is continuous blood. a continuous lover.
Charles Bukowski
