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... to die on a kitchen floor at 7 o'clock in the morning while other people are frying eggs is not so rough unless it happens to you.

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
Clock
Unless
Morning
Dies
Frying
Death
Floor
Happens
Eggs
People
Rough
Kitchen

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and our few good times will be rare because we have the critical sense and are not easy to fool with laughter
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Dying in a a war never stopped wars from happening.
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we sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning.
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the sea is made of blood
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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.
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you are yesterday's bouquet so sadly raided
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the whole world is caught in her glance and at last the universe is magnificent.
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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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agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.
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The apartment was built at the edge of a high cliff so that when you looked out the back window it seemed as if you were twelve floors up instead of four. It was very much like living on the edge of the world - a last resting place before the final big drop.
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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.
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People just weren't interesting. Maybe they weren't supposed to be. But animals, birds, even insects were. I couldn't understand it.
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sometimes I hate you, she said.
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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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If I stop writing I am dead. And that's the only way I'll stop: dead.
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Complaint is often the result of an insufficient ability to live within the obvious restrictions of this god damned cage.
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If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates.
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Let' em learn or let' em die
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They laughed. Things were funny. They weren't afraid to care. There was no sense to life, to the structure of things.
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