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Beware of those who seek constant crowds they are nothing alone.
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
Alone
Nothing
Introvert
Beware
Crowds
Seek
Constant
More quotes by Charles Bukowski
There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you.
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Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous thing. To do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without it. To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art.
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People were interesting at first. Then later, slowly but surely, all the flaws and madness would manifest themselves. I would become less and less to them they would mean less and less to me.
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Lighting new cigarettes, pouring more drinks. It has been a beautiful fight. Still is.
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Before my death I hope to obtain my life.
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There's nothing unusual about love.
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But she projected vitality - you knew that she was there.
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If you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose.
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there's no defense except all the errors made
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I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals.
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The streets were full of insane & dull people. Most of them lived in nice houses and didn't seem to work, and you wondered how they did it.
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Death is nothing, brother, it's life that's hard
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Never envy a man his lady. Behind it all lays a living hell.
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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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There's no way I can stop writing, it's a form of insanity.
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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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Capitalism has survived communism. Now, it eats away at itself.
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Of course, there would always be arguments. That is the nature of Woman. They like the mutual exchange of dirty laundry, a bit of screaming, a bit of dramatics. Then an exchange of vows.
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and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.
Charles Bukowski
mercy, I think, doesn't the human race know anything about mercy?
Charles Bukowski
