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Never envy a man his lady. Behind it all lays a living hell.

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
Behind
Hell
Living
Never
Men
Lady
Envy
Lays
Behinds

More quotes by Charles Bukowski

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Once in a dream I saw a snake swallowing its own tail, it swallowed and swallowed until it got halfway round, and there it stopped and there it stayed, it was stuffed with its own self. Some fix, that. We only have ourselves to go on, and it's enough.
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I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard.
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I will put on my shoes and shirt and get out of here - it'll be better for all of us.
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Banion wondered which was worse - being sodomized by aliens, or having to sit through two hours of Charles Ives.
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I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.
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A day of minor profit or prophet led to a night of drunkenness.
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Your parents don't give you much love, do they?' 'I don't need that stuff,' I told her. 'Henry, everybody needs love.' 'I don't need anything.' 'You poor boy.
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I am aware that a computer can’t create a poem, but neither can a typewriter.
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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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Trouble and pain were what kept a man alive. Or trying to avoid trouble and pain. It was a full time job.
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If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates.
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Find what you love and let it kill you. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
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We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus!
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I am for the small man who has not forgotten, for the man who loves his beer and his women and his sunlight
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Let it die. Let there be a new beginning. It’s awful. Goodnight.
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I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even stupidly happy almost without cause and left alone I am mostly content.
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Long ago, among other lies they were taught that silence was bravery.
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God knows I am not too hippy. Perhaps because I am too much around the hip and I fear fads for, like anybody else, I like something that tends to last.
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I'm going, she said. I love you but you're crazy, you're doomed.
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I write right off the typer. I call it my machinegun. I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine and listening to classical music on the radio and smoking mangalore ganesh beedies.
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