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and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.
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
Color
Eyes
Gone
Eye
Back
Sea
More quotes by Charles Bukowski
and even the trees we walked under seemed less than trees and more like everything else.
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You've got to know when to let a woman go if you want to keep her,and if you don't want to keep her you let her go anyhow so it's always a process of letting go, one way or the other.
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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 dunno, i said, but i have an idea that people who don't think too much tend to look younger longer
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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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God knows I am not too hippy. Perhaps because I am too much around the hip and I fear fads for, like anybody else, I like something that tends to last.
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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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As we go on with our lives we tend to forget that the jails and the hospitals and the madhouses and the graveyards are packed.
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Basically, that's why I wrote: to save my ass, to save my ass from the madhouse, from the streets, from myself.
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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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Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.
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But she projected vitality - you knew that she was 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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I am not like other people. I am burning in hell. The hell of myself.
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Each person is only given so many evenings and each wasted evening is a gross violation against the natural course of your only life.
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The public takes from a writer, or a writing, what it needs and lets the remainder go. but what they take is usually what they need least and what they let go is what they need most.
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You were destroyed by what you befriended.
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I took no pride in my solitude but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.
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I just want a hot cup of coffee,black,and I don’t want to hear about your troubles.
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The crazy ones only laugh when there is no reason to laugh.
Charles Bukowski