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
taste millionaire bad-taste
Bad taste creates many more millionaires than good taste.
grief sorrow cry
Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can't even cry.
guy chance needed
All a guy needed was a chance. Somebody was alway controlling who got a chance and who didn't.
book needs great-book
great books are the ones we need
drinking sleep dark
It was sad, it was sad, it was sad. When Betty came back we didn't sing or laugh, or even argue. We sat drinking in the dark, smoking cigarettes, and when we went to sleep, I didn't put my feet on her body or she on mine like we used to. We slept without touching. We had both been robbed.
laughter fighting night
If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.
cousin mean thinking
people see so many movies that when they finally see one not so bad as the others, they think it's great. an Academy Award means that you don't stink quite as much as your cousin.
night ifs dies
Some nights I knew that if I slept I would die.
firsts said
And I said to myself that he was the first thing that I had ever missed in my life.
suicide jesus sleep
I had no interests. I had no interest in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn’t understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn’t let me.
writing insanity way
There's no way I can stop writing, it's a form of insanity.
suicide writing men
When I was young I was depressed all the time. But suicide no longer seemed a possibility in my life. At my age there was very little left to kill. It was good to be old, no matter what they said. It was reasonable that a man had to be at least 50 years old before he could write with anything like clarity.
turkeys fats bigs
love iz a big fat turkey and every day iz thanksgiving
life art thought-provoking
To do a dull thing with style-now that's what I call art.