Bukowski Quotes

Like anybody can tell you, I am not a very nice man. I don't know the word. I have always admired the villain, the outlaw, the son of a bitch. I don't like the clean-shaven boy with the necktie and the good job. I like desperate men, men with broken teeth and broken minds and broken ways. They interest me. They are full of surprises and explosions. I also like vile women, drunk cursing bitches with loose stockings and sloppy mascara faces. I'm more interested in perverts than saints. I can relax with bums because I am a bum. I don't like laws, morals, religions, rules. I don't like to be shaped by society.
Charles Bukowski
Genius could be the ability to say a profound thing in a simple way, or even to say a simple thing in a simpler way.
Charles Bukowski
to ask them to legalize pot is something like asking them to put butter on the handcuffs before they place them on you, something else is hurting you - that's why you need pot or whiskey, or whips and rubber suits, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can't think, or madhouses or mechanical cunts or 162 baseball games in a season. or vietnam or israel or the fear of spiders. your love washing her yellow false teeth in the sink before you screw.
Charles Bukowski
My heart is a thousand years old. I am not like other people.
Charles Bukowski
How are his poems?""He's not as good as he thinks he is, but then most of us feel that way.
Charles Bukowski
We’ve all heard that little woman who says, “Oh, it’s terrible what these young people do to themselves, in my lsi other drugs, is a terrible thing”.Then you look, the woman who speaks in this way: you have no eyes, no teeth, no brains, no soul, no ass, no mouth, no warmth, no spirit, nothing, just a stick… and avran made ​​you wonder how to reduce it in that state teas and pastries and the church.
Charles Bukowski
Are there good governments and bad governments? No, there are only bad governments and worse governments.
Charles Bukowski
as the shadows assumeshapesI fight the slowretreatnowmy once-promisedwindlingdwindlingnowlighting new cigarettespouring moredrinksit has been a beautifulfightstillis.
Charles Bukowski
I found the best thingI could dowas just to type awayat my own workand let the dyingdieas they always have.
Charles Bukowski
one doesn't even think ofthe liverand if the liverdoesn't think ofus, that'sfine.
Charles Bukowski
when I drive the freeways I see the soul of humanity ofmy city and it's ugly, ugly, ugly: the living have choked theheartaway.
Charles Bukowski
I didn't know who tobelievebutone thing I doknow: when a man islivingmany claim relationshipsthat are hardlysoand after he dies, well,then it's everybody'sparty.
Charles Bukowski
and love is a word usedtoo much andmuchtoo soon.
Charles Bukowski
The dead do not needaspirin orsorrow,I suppose.but they might needrain.not shoesbut a place towalk.not cigarettes,they tell us,but a place to burn.or we're told:space and a place to flymight be thesame.the dead don't need me.nor do theliving.but the dead might needeachother.in fact, the dead might needeverything weneedandwe need so muchif we only knewwhat itwas.it isprobablyeverythingand we will allprobably dietrying to getitor diebecause wedon't getit.I hopeyou will understandwhen I am deadI got as muchaspossible.
Charles Bukowski
regret is mostly caused by not havingdone anything.
Charles Bukowski
sometimes it's hard to knowwhat todo.
Charles Bukowski
when Whitman wrote, “I sing the body electric”I know what hemeantI know what hewanted:to be completely alive every momentin spite of the inevitable.we can’t cheat death but we can make itwork so hardthat when it does takeusit will have known a victory just asperfect asours
Charles Bukowski
Yawn...I believe that I love sleepmuch more than anybody I’ve evermet.I have the ability to sleep for2 or 3 days andnights.I will go to bed at any givenmoment.I often confused my girlfriendsthis way—say it would be about onethirtyin the afternoon:“well, I’m going to bed now, I’mgoing to sleep…”most of them wouldn’t mind, theywould go to bed with methinking I was hinting forsexbut I would just turn my backand snore off.this, of course, could explainwhy so many of my girlfriendsleft me.as for doctors, they were neverany help:“listen, I have this desire togo to bed and sleep, almost allthe time.what is wrong withme?”“do you get enough exercise?”“yes…”“are you getting enoughnourishment?”“yes…”they always handed me aprescriptionwhich I threw awaybetween the office and theparking lot.it’s a curious maladybecause I can’t sleep between6 p.m. and midnight.it must occur aftermidnightand when I ariseit can never bebefore noon.and should the phone ringsay at 10:30 a.m.I go into a mad ragedon’t even ask who the callerisscream into thephone: “WHAT ARE YOUCALLING ME FOR AT THISHOUR!”hangup…every person, I suppose, hastheir eccentricitiesbut in an effort to benormalin the world’seyethey overcome themand thereforedestroy theirspecial calling.I’ve kept mineand do believe thatthey have lent generously tomy existence.I think it’s the main reason Idecided to become awriter: I can typeanytime andsleepwhen I damn wellplease.
Charles Bukowski
And it seems people should not build houses anymoreit seems people should stop working and sit in small rooms on second floorsunder electric lightswithout shades;it seems there is a lot to forgetand a lot not to doand in drugstores, markets, bars,the people are tired, they do not want to move, and I stand there at nightand look through this house and the house does not want to be built
Charles Bukowski
The centuries are sprinkled with rare magicwith divine creatureswho help us get past the common and extraordinary ills that beset us
Charles Bukowski
there’s nothing todiscussthere’s nothing torememberthere’s nothing toforgetit’s sadand it’s notsadseems themost sensiblethinga person can doissitwith drink inhandas the wallswavetheir goodbyesmilesone comes throughit allwith a certain amount ofefficiency andbraverythenleavessome acceptthe possibility ofGodto help themgetthroughotherstake itstaight onand to theseI drink tonight.
Charles Bukowski
Whether I was a genius or not did not so much concern me as the fact that I simply did not want a part of anything. The animal-drive and energy of my fellow man amazed me: that a man could change tires all day long or drive an ice cream truck or run for Congress or cut into a man's guts in surgery or murder, this was all beyond me. I did not want to begin. I still don't. Any day I that I could cheat away from this system of living seemed a good victory for me.
Charles Bukowski
the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis.
Charles Bukowski
the world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem.
Charles Bukowski
she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare.
Charles Bukowski
it is so dark now with the sadness ofpeoplethey were tricked, they were taught to expect theultimate when nothing ispromisednow young girls weep alone in small roomsold men angrily swing their canes atvisions asladies comb their hair asants search for survivalhistory surrounds usand our livesslink awayinshame.
Charles Bukowski
we are burning like a chicken wing left on the grill of an outdoor barbecuewe are unwanted and burning we are burning and unwanted we arean unwantedburningas we sizzle and fryto the bonethe coals of Dante's 'Inferno' spit and sputter beneathus andabove the sky is an open hand andthe words of wise men are uselessit's not a nice world, a nice world it's not ...
Charles Bukowski
it does seemthe more we drinkthe better the wordsgo.
Charles Bukowski
I feel no grief for being called somethingwhichI am not;in fact, it's enthralling, somehow, like a goodback rub
Charles Bukowski
The ass is the face of the soul of sex.
Charles Bukowski
unaccountably we are aloneforever aloneand it was meant to bethat way,it was never meantto be any other way–and when the death strugglebeginsthe last thing I wish to seeisa ring of human faceshovering over me–better just my old friends,the walls of my self,let only them be there.I have been alone but seldomlonely.I have satisfied my thirstat the wellof my selfand that wine was good,the best I ever had,and tonightsittingstaring into the darkI now finally understandthe dark and thelight and everythingin between.peace of mind and heartarriveswhen we accept whatis:having beenborn into thisstrange lifewe must acceptthe wasted gamble of ourdaysand take some satisfaction inthe pleasure ofleaving it allbehind.cry not for me.grieve not for me.readwhat I’ve writtenthenforget itall.drink from the wellof your selfand beginagain.Mind and Heart
Charles Bukowski
that's ONE thing that's wrong with intellectuals and writers - they don't feel a hell of a lot except their own comfort or their own pain. which is normal but shitty.
Charles Bukowski
the first place smelled like work, so I took the second
Charles Bukowski
All we do is sleep, and eat and lay around and make love. We're like slugs. Slug-love, I call it.
Charles Bukowski
You women have more holes than swiss cheese.
Charles Bukowski
I don't know. It's been terribly hard for me. How do I know you won't do it again?''Nobody is ever quite sure of what they will do. You aren't sure what you might do.
Charles Bukowski
You're the most unknown famous man I ever met
Charles Bukowski
Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.
Charles Bukowski
I have one problem, I don’t hate people. They disgust me and I want to get away from them. I do not have hatred. I have an escape mechanism.
Charles Bukowski
people need me. I fillthem. if they can't see mefor awhile the get desperate, they getsick.but if I see them too oftenI get sick. it's hard to feedwithout getting fed.
Charles Bukowski
Basically, that's why I wrote: to save my ass, to save my ass from the madhouse, from the streets, from myself.
Charles Bukowski
There is only one place to write and that is alone at a typewriter. The writer who has to go into the streets is a writer who does not know the streets. . . when you leave your typewriter you leave your machine gun and the rats come pouring through.
Charles Bukowski
crawled like a blind slug into the web
Charles Bukowski
It got so bad that Al thoughtmaybe it washimso he went to a shrinkand askedand the shrink said,"you're one of the sanest menI've ever met."poor Al.that made him feelworse than ever.
Charles Bukowski
I remember yoursaying: "make itor break it."neither happened anditwon't.
Charles Bukowski
that your power of commandwith simple language wasone of the magnificent things ofour century.(from the poem: result)
Charles Bukowski
where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die,
Charles Bukowski
sometimes when everything seems atits worstwhen all conspiresand gnawsand the hours, days, weeksyearsseem wasted – stretched there upon my bedin the darklooking upward at the ceilingi get what many will consider anobnoxious thought:it’s still nice to beBukowski.
Charles Bukowski
the best part waspulling down theshadesstuffing the doorbellwith ragsputting the phonein therefrigeratorand going to bedfor 3 or 4days. and the next bestpartwasnobody evermissedme.
Charles Bukowski
I paid, got up, walkedto the door, openedit.I heard the mansay, "that guy'snuts."out on the street Iwalked northfeelingcuriouslyhonored.
Charles Bukowski
I believe that to be the world's greatest livingwriterthere must be somethingterribly wrong with you.I don't even want to be the world's greatestdead writer.just being dead would be fairenough.
Charles Bukowski
La mayoría de la muerte de la gente es una farsa, no queda en ellos nada que pueda morir
Charles Bukowski
I see a brightportionunder the overhead lightthat shades intodarknessand then into darkerdarknessand I can't see beyond that.
Charles Bukowski
as long as there arehuman beings aboutthere is never going to beany peacefor any individualupon this earth (oranywhere elsethey mightescape to).all you can dois maybe grabten lucky minuteshereor maybe an hourthere.somethingis working toward youright now, andI mean youand nobody butyou.
Charles Bukowski
the worst thing," he told me,"is bitterness, people end up sobitter.
Charles Bukowski
she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn't feelalone.
Charles Bukowski
We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.
Charles Bukowski
the gods seldomgivebut so quicklytake.
Charles Bukowski
the gods play nofavorites.
Charles Bukowski
Beasts bounding through time. Van Gogh writing his brother for paintsHemingway testing his shotgunCeline going broke as a doctor of medicinethe impossibility of being humanVillon expelled from Paris for being a thiefFaulkner drunk in the gutters of his townthe impossibility of being humanBurroughs killing his wife with a gunMailer stabbing histhe impossibility of being humanMaupassant going mad in a rowboatDostoevsky lined up against a wall to be shotCrane off the back of a boat into the propellerthe impossibilitySylvia with her head in the oven like a baked potatoHarry Crosby leaping into that Black SunLorca murdered in the road by the Spanish troopsthe impossibilityArtaud sitting on a madhouse benchChatterton drinking rat poisonShakespeare a plagiaristBeethoven with a horn stuck into his head against deafnessthe impossibility the impossibilityNietzsche gone totally madthe impossibility of being humanall too humanthis breathingin and outout and inthese punksthese cowardsthese championsthese mad dogs of glorymoving this little bit of light towardusimpossibly
Charles Bukowski

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