Charles Bukowski
Charles Bukowski
Henry Charles Bukowskiwas an American poet, novelist, and short story writer...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth16 August 1920
CityAndernach, Germany
CountryUnited States of America
sleep alcohol trying
Meanwhile the 3 a.m. drunks of the world would lay in their beds, trying in vain to sleep, and deserving that rest, if they could find it.
cities feelings guilty
there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone.
pain rain wells
Well, the rain had stopped but the pain was still there.
horse love-is broken
Love is a horse with a broken leg trying to stand while 45,000 people watch.
people so-sad ifs
people are not good to each other. perhaps if they were our deaths would not be so sad.
cat mind creeps
terror finally becomes almost bearable but never quite terror creeps like a cat crawls like a cat across my mind
guy lucky blame
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?
running men alive
like the fox I run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth I’m surely the luckiest man alive.
people needs form
People don't need love. What they need is success in one form or another. It can be love but it needn't be.
eight ninety hundred
of one hundred movies there's one that is fair, one that's good and ninety eight that are very bad. most movies start badly and steadily get worse
love-is men average
beware those quick to praise for they need praise in return beware those who are quick to censor they are afraid of what they do not know beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone beware the average man the average woman beware their love, their love is average seeks average
thinking young dies
young or old, good or bad, I don't think anything dies as slow and as hard as a writer.
grace strange pleasure
I take much pleasure in being alone but there is also a strange warm grace in not being alone.
ocean years genius
I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train ran down along the coast we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, it’s not pretty.