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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.
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
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Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
Buk
charles bukowski
Forget
Graveyards
Lives
Madhouses
Jails
Packed
Graveyard
Hospitals
Jail
Tend
More quotes by Charles Bukowski
To experience real agony is something hard to write about, impossible to understand while it grips you you're frightened out of your wits, can’t sit still, move, or even go decently insane.
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hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.
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Something that never happens anywhere at any time.
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That's the way it ends. The thin edge of the wedge.
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When a writer is swayed with his fame and his fortune, you can float him down the river with the turds.
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the people are the biggest horror show on earth, have been for centuries.
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With me, my main vision for life was to avoid as many people as possible. The less people I saw the better I felt.
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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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People need me. I fill them. If they can't see me for a while they get desperate, they get sick. But if I see them too often I get sick. It's hard to feed without getting fed.
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There's nothing to mourn about death any more than there is to mourn about the growing of a flower. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don't live up until their death.
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It was like any other relationship, there was jealousy on both sides, there were split-ups and reconciliations. There were also fragmented moments of great peace and beauty. I often tried to get away from her and she tried to get away from me but it was difficult: Cupid, in his strange way, was really there.
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and even the trees we walked under seemed less than trees and more like everything else.
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I am this fiery snail crawling home.
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nobody can save you but yourself. you will be put again and again into nearly impossible situations. they will attempt again and again through subterfuge, guise and force to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly inside. nobody can save you but yourself
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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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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.
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Never get out of bed before noon.
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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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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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