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What good are you? What can you do? It has cost me a thousands of dollars to raise you, feed you, clothe you! Suppose I left you here on the street? Then what would you do? Catch butterflies

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
Feed
Cost
Catch
Streets
Raise
Left
Thousands
Good
Suppose
Would
Raises
Clothe
Street
Butterflies
Butterfly
Dollars

More quotes by Charles Bukowski

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I would say that Mickey Mouse has a greater influence on the American public than Shakespeare, Milton, Dante, Rabelais, Shostakovitch, Lenin, and/or Van Gogh. Which says 'What?' about the American Public. Disneyland remains the central attraction of Southern California, but the graveyard remains our reality.
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Wherever the crowd goes run in the other direction. They're always wrong.
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If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.
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That was all a man needed: hope. It was lack of hope that discouraged a man.
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There is nothing that teaches you more than regrouping after failure and moving on.
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there is a place in the heart that will never be filled a space and even during the best moments and the greatest times times we will know it we will know it more than ever there is a place in the heart that will never be filled and we will wait and wait in that space.
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the masses are everywhere they know how to do things: they have sane and deadly angers for sane and deadly things.
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I'll use the knives for spreading jam, and the gas to warm my greying love.
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I write right off the typer. I call it my machinegun. I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine and listening to classical music on the radio and smoking mangalore ganesh beedies.
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love be damned now as love was damned when it first arrived.
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Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.
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The Difference Between Art and Life is that Art is More Bearable
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I could read the great books but the great books don't interest me.
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human relationships simply aren't durable. I think back to the women in my life. they seem non-existent.
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They looked as if nothing had ever touched them--all well-mothered, protected, with a soft sheen of contentment. None of them had ever been in jail, or worked hard with their hands, or even gotten a traffic ticket. Skimmed-milk jollies, the whole bunch.
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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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They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.
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there's no defense except all the errors made
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Death is nothing, brother, it's life that's hard
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it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.
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