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Dying in a a war never stopped wars from happening.
Charles Bukowski
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Charles Bukowski
Age: 73 †
Born: 1920
Born: August 16
Died: 1994
Died: March 9
Actor
Author
Autobiographer
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Diarist
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
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Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Happenings
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Dying
War
Never
Wars
Stopped
More quotes by Charles Bukowski
Well, the rain had stopped but the pain was still there.
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Once a woman turns against you, forget it. They can love you, then something turns in them. They can watch you dying in a gutter, run over by a car, and they'll spit on you.
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They were beautiful nothings
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Sometimes I feel as if we are all trapped in a movie. We know our lines, where to walk, how to act, only there is no camera. Yet, we can't break out of the movie. And it's a bad one.
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be it peace or happiness let it enfold you
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I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.
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When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.
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There is nothing that teaches you more than regrouping after failure and moving on.
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magic persists without us no matter what we may do to try to spoil it
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some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about.
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I still have a little whiskey left and therefore a chance.
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Love is a form of prejudice. I have too many other prejudices.
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But she projected vitality - you knew that she was there.
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in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and death and the lie of love.
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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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I am for the small man who has not forgotten, for the man who loves his beer and his women and his sunlight
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The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left.
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There is no hurry. Time means nothing to you.
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all that I know is that I believe in the sound of music and the running of a horse. all else is squabble.
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I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife inside because there was no alternative except to hide as long as possible--- not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance: trying to connect.
Charles Bukowski