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If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside on my fingertips and at brain edges and in centers centers of what I am of what remains.
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
Carry
Remains
Outside
Inside
Brain
Always
Fingertips
Never
Centers
Edges
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it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.
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Before you kill something make sure you have something better to replace it with.
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I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.
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Many a good man has been put under the bridge by a woman.
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I have no time for things that have no soul.
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I don't know if this is true to you but for me sometimes it gets so bad that anything else say like looking at a bird on an overhead power line seems as great as a Beethoven symphony. then you forget it and you're back again.
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It’s never quite right, all the things we are taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we die, all the lives we live.
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Let it die. Let there be a new beginning. It’s awful. Goodnight.
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I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even stupidly happy almost without cause and left alone I am mostly content.
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and then there are some who believe that old relationships can be revived and made new again. but please if you feel that way don't phone don't write don't arrive
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It was hard for me to believe. When recess was over I sat in class and thought about it. My mother had a hole and my father had a dong that shot juice. How could they have things like that and walk around as if everything was normal, and talk about things, and then do it and not tell anybody?
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I don't think I'll travel anymore. Travel is nothing but an inconvenience. There is always enough trouble where you are.
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WHEN YOU LEAVE YOUR TYPEWRITER YOU LEAVE YOUR MACHINE GUN AND THE RATS COME POURING THROUGH.
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I'll use the knives for spreading jam, and the gas to warm my greying love.
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Pretty words, as pretty women, wrinkle up and die.
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I have loved you woman as surely as I have named you rust and sand and nylon.
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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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Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad
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