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
beautiful way desperate
She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful, but she didn't have quite enough going for her to become what she imagined herself to be.
stupid hard-work thinking
Existence was not only absurd, it was plain hard work. Think of how many times you put on your underwear in a lifetime. It was appalling, it was disgusting, it was stupid.
needs need-god
Those who preach god, need god Those who preach peace do not have peace Those who preach love do not have love
writing past lines
If you can't write the next line, well, you're dead. The past doesn't matter.
understanding realizing pleasure
Gradually I came to realize that my understanding of women goes only as far as the pleasure is concerned.
beautiful
They were beautiful nothings
courage cat feelings
when I am feeling low all i have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns
drinking beer blood
stay with the beer. beer is continuous blood. a continuous lover.
drinking world moments
When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.
change romantic men
You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.
jealous games saws
Her violence frightened me. She always claimed that I was the jealous one, and I was often jealous, but when I saw things working against me I simply became disgusted and withdrew. Lydia was different. She reacted. She was the Head Cheerleader at the Game of Violence.
men drunk shooting-up
We have wasted History like a bunch of drunks shooting dice back in the men's crapper of the local bar.
dizzy creatures
one more creature dizzy with love
odds perspective people
I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.