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Where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die.

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
Dies
Reason
Make
Things
Pissed
Rain
Grow
Grows

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eleven months. now she's gone gone as they go.
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That the young rich smell the stink of the poor and learn to find it a bit amusing. They had to laugh, otherwise it would be too terrifying.
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When Ginsburg is at the top of his game you might as well put down your toys and listen.
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Style means no shield at all. Style means no front at all. Style means ultimate naturalness. Style means one man alone with billions of men about.
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You have to die a few times before you can really live.
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I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.
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Find what you love and let it kill you. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
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There still might be a place for us somewhere.
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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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I had no feeling for the things so many others needed.
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my mother, poor fish, wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a week, telling me to be happy: Henry, smile! why don't you ever smile? and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the saddest smile I ever saw
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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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Something that never happens anywhere at any time.
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if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it.
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your letters got sadder. your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. it didn't help. you said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.
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How are his poems? He's not as good as he thinks he is, but then most of us feel that way.
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nobody can save you but yourself. you will be put again and again into nearly impossible situations. they will attempt again and again through subterfuge, guise and force to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly inside. nobody can save you but yourself
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Banion wondered which was worse - being sodomized by aliens, or having to sit through two hours of Charles Ives.
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If you let them kill you, they will
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Before you kill something make sure you have something better to replace it with.
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