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The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer, and worse than that, to know a number of other writers. Like flies on the same turd.
Charles Bukowski
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Charles Bukowski
Age: 73 †
Born: 1920
Born: August 16
Died: 1994
Died: March 9
Actor
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Journalist
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Writer
Henry Charles Bukowski
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charles bukowski
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More quotes by Charles Bukowski
you are yesterday's bouquet so sadly raided
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there's no clarity. there was never meant to be clarity.
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I don't carry notebooks and I don't consciously store ideas. I try not to think that I am a writer and I am pretty good at doing that. I don't like writers, but then I don't like insurance salesmen either.
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You are thirty minutes late. Yes. Would you be thirty minutes late to a wedding or a funeral? No. Why not, pray tell? Well, if the funeral was mine I'd have to be on time. If the wedding was mine it would be my funeral.
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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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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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That's what friendship means: sharing the prejudice of experience.
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Never get out of bed before noon.
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I think that the world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just cats and rain, rain and cats, very nice, good night.
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and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.
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if you get married they think you're finished and if you are without a woman they think you're incomplete.
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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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There's nothing unusual about love.
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Life's as kind as you let it be.
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I'll use the knives for spreading jam, and the gas to warm my greying love.
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you fall into the mirror, come through the other side staring at a lightbulb.
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What? You’d dare drink right after getting out of jail for intoxication?” That’s when you need a drink the most.
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I was laying in bed one night and I thought 'I'll just quit - to hell with it.' And another little voice inside me said 'Don't quit - save that tiny little ember of spark.' And never give them that spark because as long as you have that spark, you can start the greatest fire again.
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The world is full of boring, identical and mindless people.
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Most of the world was mad. And the part that wasn't mad was angry. And the part that wasn't mad or angry was just stupid. I had no chance. I had no choice. Just hang on and wait for the end. It was hard work. It was the hardest work imaginable.
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