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Charles Bukowski Quotes - Page 27

All Quotes Age Alcohol Anarchy Army Art Beer Bones Boxing Chaos Children Christ Coffee Country Creation Darkness Death Defeat Desire Drinking Dying Earth Evil Failing Feelings Fighting Funny Genius Giving Grief Hangover Hate Hatred Heart Hell House Humanity Hurt Insanity Inspirational Jesus Joy Kissing Laughter Letting Go Life Listening Literature Loneliness Love Luck Lying Madness Magic Mask Mercy Morning Pain Past Prejudice Quitting Rain Reading Reality Running Sadness School Silence Sleep Smoking Solitude Sorrow Soul Stupidity Style Understanding Victory Waiting Wall War Water Whiskey Wife Wine Winning Worry Writing Youth
be it peace or happiness let it enfold you

be it peace or happiness let it enfold you

Charles Bukowski
Cheer Up
Charles Bukowski, “Let It Enfold You”

Hemingway and Saroyan had the line, the magic of it. The problem was that Hemingway didn't know how to laugh and Saroyan was filled with sugar.

Charles Bukowski
Laughing, Magic, Lines
Charles Bukowski (2003). “Sunlight Here I Am: Interviews and Encounters, 1963-1993”

There's nothing unusual about love.

Charles Bukowski
Unusual

In a more universal sense, we only get one thing. You know...a head stone if we're lucky; if not, green grass.

Charles Bukowski
Lucky, Green, Stones
Source: bukowski.net

I knew it would be you

Charles Bukowski
Would Be, Be You
Charles Bukowski (2014). “Charles Bukowski Fiction Collection”, p.38, Harper Collins

You've got to rise from the floor alone or fall back alone.

Charles Bukowski
Fall, Fall Back

and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.

Charles Bukowski
Eye, Color, Sea
Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.45, Canongate Books

My flesh looked like it wasn't trying. It looked like it hated being part of me.

Charles Bukowski
Trying, Flesh, Hated

I'm very clever at hiding poems perhaps more clever than I am at writing them.

Charles Bukowski
Clever, Writing, Hiding

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.

Charles Bukowski
Pain, Blow, Hands

Love is a Dog from Hell.

Charles Bukowski
Dog, Love Is, Hell
1977 Title of book.

nothing's news. it's the same old thing in disguise. only one thing comes without a disguise and you only see it once, or maybe never. like getting hit by a freight train. makes us realize that all our moaning about long lost girls in gingham dresses is not so important after all.

Charles Bukowski
Girl, Old Things, Long
Charles Bukowski (2002). “Il grande”, p.188, Feltrinelli Editore

There is no hurry. Time means nothing to you.

Charles Bukowski
Mean

Love is a form of prejudice. I have too many other prejudices.

Charles Bukowski
Love Is, Prejudice, Form

They looked as if nothing had ever touched them--all well-mothered, protected, with a soft sheen of contentment. None of them had ever been in jail, or worked hard with their hands, or even gotten a traffic ticket. Skimmed-milk jollies, the whole bunch.

Charles Bukowski
Hands, Jail, Contentment

The role of the poet is almost nothing...drearily nothing. And when he steps outside of his boots and tries to get tough as our dear Ezra [Pound] did, he will get his pink little ass slapped.

Charles Bukowski
Trying, Steps, Roles
Source: bukowski.net

and our few good times will be rare because we have the critical sense and are not easy to fool with laughter

Charles Bukowski
Laughter, Fool, Good Times
Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.60, Canongate Books

But she projected vitality - you knew that she was there.

Charles Bukowski
Vitality
Charles Bukowski (2009). “Women: A Novel”, p.8, Harper Collins

the history of melancholia includes all of us.

Charles Bukowski
Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.302, Canongate Books

It seemed better to delay thinking.

Charles Bukowski
Thinking, Delay

Where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die.

Charles Bukowski
Rain, Reason, Grows
Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.60, Canongate Books

To me Art (poetry) is a continuous and continuing process and that when a man fails to write good poetry he fails to live fully or well.

Charles Bukowski
Art, Writing, Men

the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The Wine of Forever

Charles Bukowski
Writing, Wine, Men

There's nothing else as pleasant as being unpleasant when there's nothing else to do, and there's usually nothing else to do.

Charles Bukowski
Pleasant

Belane, are you nuts?" Who knows? Insanity is comparative. Who sets the norm?

Charles Bukowski
Nuts, Insanity, Norm

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