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We waste days like mad blackbirds and pray for alcoholic nightsour silk-sick human smiles wrap around us like somebody else's confetti

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
Days
Smiles
Else
Mad
Confetti
Around
Pray
Blackbirds
Human
Praying
Alcoholic
Humans
Bird
Wrap
Like
Waste
Alcoholics
Sick
Wraps
Somebody
Silk

More quotes by Charles Bukowski

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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
Charles Bukowski
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Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you'll never meet them.
Charles Bukowski
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there is enough treachery , hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army on any given day
Charles Bukowski
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the way to create art is to burn and destroy ordinary concepts and to substitute them with new truths that run down from the top of the head and out of the heart
Charles Bukowski
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Some lose all mind and become soul,insane. some lose all soul and become mind, intellectual. some lose both and become accepted
Charles Bukowski
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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.
Charles Bukowski
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in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and death and the lie of love.
Charles Bukowski
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I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love, and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me.
Charles Bukowski
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Something that never happens anywhere at any time.
Charles Bukowski
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Our disappointment sits between us.
Charles Bukowski
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and getting dressed we talk about what else there might be to do, but being together solves most of it, in fact, solves all of it
Charles Bukowski
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They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.
Charles Bukowski
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You can forgive a fool because he only runs in one direction and doesn't deceive anybody. It's the deceivers who make you feel bad.
Charles Bukowski
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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.
Charles Bukowski
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We do not abandon ship. I say, as corny as it may sound, through the strength and spirit and fire and dare and gamble of a few men in a few ways we can save the carcass of humanity from drowning. No light goes out until it goes out. Let's fight as men, not rats. Period. No further addition.
Charles Bukowski
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Morals were restrictive, but they were grounded on human experience.
Charles Bukowski
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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?
Charles Bukowski
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it's good to have things done with when they don't work it's also good not to hate or even forget the person you've failed with.
Charles Bukowski
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there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often when you do it's too late and there's nothing worse than too late
Charles Bukowski
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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.
Charles Bukowski