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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
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Journalist
Novelist
Poet
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Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Raises
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Butterflies
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More quotes by Charles Bukowski
t was almost disappointing because it seemed when stress and madness were eliminated from my daily life there wasn't much left you could depend on.
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You just rebel against everything. How are you going to survive? I don't know. I'm already tired.
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Where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die.
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one can never be sure whether it's good poetry or bad acid
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…He was always high on drugs. I was not a drug man, but in case I wanted to hide from myself for a few days, I knew I could get anything I wanted from him.
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People do too much. They say too much.
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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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it's good to have things done with when they don't work it's also good not to hate or even forget the person you've failed with.
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Maybe when I get in the grave, things will be beautiful.
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Meanwhile the 3 a.m. drunks of the world would lay in their beds, trying in vain to sleep, and deserving that rest, if they could find it.
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I am this fiery snail crawling home.
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The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer, and worse than that, to know a number of other writers. Like flies on the same turd.
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If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start.
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You are thirty minutes late. Yes. Would you be thirty minutes late to a wedding or a funeral? No. Why not, pray tell? Well, if the funeral was mine I'd have to be on time. If the wedding was mine it would be my funeral.
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We waste days like mad blackbirds and pray for alcoholic nightsour silk-sick human smiles wrap around us like somebody else's confetti
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Too often the people complain that they have done nothing with their lives and then they wait for somebody to tell them that this isn't so.
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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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With me, my main vision for life was to avoid as many people as possible. The less people I saw the better I felt.
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Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and something worse?
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stay with the beer. beer is continuous blood. a continuous lover.
Charles Bukowski
