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
people waiting done
Too often the people complain that they have done nothing with their lives and then they wait for somebody to tell them that this isn't so.
passion earthquakes mahler
I like the way Mahler wandered about in his music and still retained his passion. He must have looked like an earthquake walking down the street.
firsts ass should
If I'm an ass, I should say so. If I don't, somebody else will. If I say it first, that disarms them.
differences genius doe
What's genius? I don't know but I do know that the difference between a madman and a professional is that a pro does as well as he can within what he has set out to do and a madman does exceptionally well at what he can't help doing.
incompleteness
This incompleteness is all we have.
Finally there is nothing here for death to take away.
pain blow hands
They have no idea that it can be done by a bus driver, a field hand, or a fry cook. They have no idea where it comes from. It comes from pain, damnation and impossibility. The blow to the soul of the gut. It comes from getting burned and seared and slugged. It comes from...new and awful places and the same old places.
animal waiting lays
lay down. lay down like an animal and wait.
greatness imagine ifs
It was better for me when I could imagine greatness in others, even if it wasn't always there.
home crawling snail
I am this fiery snail crawling home.
art love-is men
beware the average man the average woman beware their love, their love is average seeks average but there is genius in their hatred there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you to kill anybody not wanting solitude not understanding solitude they will attempt to destroy anything that differs from their own not being able to create art they will not understand art they will consider their failure as creators only as a failure of the world
important frightened guts
they thought I had guts they were wrong I was only frightened of more important things
mother 4th-of-july sleep
I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I didn't particularly want money. I didn't know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn't have to do anything. The thought of being something didn't only appall me, it sickened me . . . To do things, to be part of family picnics, Christmas, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Mother's Day . . . was a man born just to endure those things and then die? I would rather be a dishwasher, return alone to a tiny room and drink myself to sleep.
cheer-up
be it peace or happiness let it enfold you