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there must be a way. surely there must be a way that we have not yet thought of. who put this brain inside of me? it cries it demands it says that there is a chance. it will not say no.

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
Must
Surely
Way
Cry
Demand
Inside
Says
Brain
Chance
Cries
Thought
Demands

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stay with the beer. beer is continuous blood. a continuous lover.
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I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train ran down along the coast we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, it’s not pretty.
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The shortest distance between two points is often unbearable.
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we only asked for leopards to guard our thinning dreams.
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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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Fay had a spot of blood on the left side of her mouth and I took a wet cloth and wiped it off. Women were meant to suffer no wonder they asked for constant declarations of love.
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I will put on my shoes and shirt and get out of here - it'll be better for all of us.
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American women drove hard bargains and the ended up looking the worst for it. The few natural American women left were mostly in Texas and Louisiana.
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When a writer is swayed with his fame and his fortune, you can float him down the river with the turds.
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it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.
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from the beginning, through the middle years and up to the end: too bad, too bad, too bad.
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I've found out why men sign their names to their works- not that they created them but more than the others did not.
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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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People don't need love. What they need is success in one form or another. It can be love but it needn't be.
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Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you'll never meet them.
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Once in a dream I saw a snake swallowing its own tail, it swallowed and swallowed until it got halfway round, and there it stopped and there it stayed, it was stuffed with its own self. Some fix, that. We only have ourselves to go on, and it's enough.
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That's the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.
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Love is a Dog from Hell.
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Beware of those who seek constant crowds they are nothing alone.
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