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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
Screenwriter
Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Wells
Well
Stopped
Rain
Pain
Stills
Still
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He asked, What makes a man a writer? Well, I said, it's simple. You either get it down on paper, or jump off a bridge.
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Some men hope for revolution but when you revolt and set up your new government you find your new government is still the same old Papa, he has only put on a cardboard mask.
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I have gotten so used to melancholia that I greet it like an old friend.
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Love dries up, I thought as I walked back to the bathroom, even faster than sperm.
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agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.
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But she projected vitality - you knew that she was there.
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They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them.
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The hangover was brutal but he didn't mind. It told him he had been somewhere else, someplace good.
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sometimes I hate you, she said.
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I'm going, she said. I love you but you're crazy, you're doomed.
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The public takes from a writer, or a writing, what it needs and lets the remainder go. but what they take is usually what they need least and what they let go is what they need most.
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Don't ever write a novel unless it hurts like a hot turd coming out.
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Death is nothing, brother, it's life that's hard
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great writers are indecent people they live unfairly saving the best part for paper. good human beings save the world so that bastards like me can keep creating art, become immortal. if you read this after I am dead it means I made it.
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well, death says, as he walks by, I'm going to get you anyhow no matter what you've been: writer, cab-driver, pimp, butcher, sky-diver, I'm going to get you
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Love is a form of prejudice. I have too many other prejudices.
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