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We are all museums of fear.

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
Fear
Museums

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People do too much. They say too much.
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as the shadows assume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting new cigarettes pouring more drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is.
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There still might be a place for us somewhere.
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The trouble with these people is that their cities have never been bombed and their mothers have never been told to shut up.
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eleven months. now she's gone gone as they go.
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You were destroyed by what you befriended.
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If you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose.
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I give you soul. I give you wisdom and light and music and a bit of laughter. Also, I am the world's greatest horseplayer.
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she was consumed by 3 simple things: drink, despair, loneliness and 2 more: youth and beauty
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It was like a church in there as only the truly lost sit in bars on Tuesday mornings at 8:00 a.m.
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Only the boring get bored
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Keep your money in your pocket. Or bet it on a good horse.
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my mother, poor fish, wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a week, telling me to be happy: Henry, smile! why don't you ever smile? and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the saddest smile I ever saw
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My ambition is handicapped by laziness
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Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad
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What good are you? What can you do? It has cost me a thousands of dollars to raise you, feed you, clothe you! Suppose I left you here on the street? Then what would you do? Catch butterflies
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My dear, Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover. ~ Falsely yours
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But then if you lied to a man about his talent just because he was sitting across from you, that was the most unforgivable lie of them all, because that was telling him to go on, to continue which was the worst way for a man without real talent to waste his life, finally. But many people did just that, friends and relatives mostly.
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I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.
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Potential, I said, doesn't mean a thing. You've got to do it. Almost every baby in a crib has more potential than I have.
Charles Bukowski