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Well, the rain had stopped but the pain was still there.
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
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Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Stopped
Rain
Pain
Stills
Still
Wells
Well
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be it peace or happiness let it enfold you
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People were interesting at first. Then later, slowly but surely, all the flaws and madness would manifest themselves. I would become less and less to them they would mean less and less to me.
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Where did all the women come from? The supply was endless. Each one of them was individual, different. Their pussies were different, their kisses were different, their breasts were different, but no man could drink them all, there were too many of them, crossing their legs, driving men mad. What a feast!
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... to die on a kitchen floor at 7 o'clock in the morning while other people are frying eggs is not so rough unless it happens to you.
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this time has finished me.
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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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It's hot tonight and half the neighborhood is drunk. the other half is dead. if I have any advice about writing poetry it's - don't. I'm going to send out for some fried chicken.
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why don't we go back out there and tell them what happened? because nothing happened except that everybody has been driven insane and stupid by life. in this society there are only two things that count: don't be caught without money and don't get caught high on any kind of high. (Night Streets of Madness)
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In a more universal sense, we only get one thing. You know...a head stone if we're lucky if not, green grass.
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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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You don't go on probably when love and guns are in hand.
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the way to create art is to burn and destroy ordinary concepts and to substitute them with new truths that run down from the top of the head and out of the heart
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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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If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.
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So, that’s what they wanted: lies. Beautiful lies. That’s what they needed. People were fools. It was going to be easy for me.
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If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates.
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