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I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get.

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
Often
Stood
Persons
Mirror
Person
Mirrors
Ugly
Fronts
Front
Wonder
Alone
Wondering

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For each Joan of Arc there is a Hitler perched at the other end of the teeter-totter.
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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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there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock
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Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink.
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we drove on and on, past little villages and both good things and bad things were happening to the people in those villages too, but I still was nothing but arms and ears and eyes and maybe there'd be either some good luck for me or more death tomorrow.
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He asked, what makes a man a writer? well, I said, it's simple, it's either you get it down on paper or you jump off a bridge. writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers. are you desperate? I don't know.
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Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. The less I needed the better I felt.
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I can't blame her. but wonder why she's here with me? where are the other guys? how can you be lucky? having someone the others have abandoned?
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I write as a function. Without it I would fall ill and die. It's as much a part of one as the liver or intestine, and just about as glamorous.
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Each man's hell is in a different place: mine is just up and behind my ruined face.
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don't be ashamed of anything I guess God meant it all like locks on doors.
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In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass.
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My flesh looked like it wasn't trying. It looked like it hated being part of me.
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Not everybody thought they could be a dentist or an automobile mechanic but everybody knew they could be a writer.
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Those who escape hell however never talk about it and nothing much bothers them after that
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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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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 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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People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective.
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