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Charles Bukowski Quotes - Page 28

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as the shadows assume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting new cigarettes pouring more drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is.

as the shadows assume shapes I fight the slow retreat now my once-promise dwindling dwindling now lighting new cigarettes pouring more drinks it has been a beautiful fight still is.

Charles Bukowski
Beautiful, Fighting, Promise
Charles Bukowski (2009). “You Get So Alone at Times”, p.43, Harper Collins

The trouble with these people is that their cities have never been bombed and their mothers have never been told to shut up.

Charles Bukowski
Mother, Cities, People

The park grass looked greener, the park benches looked better and the flowers were trying harder.

Charles Bukowski
Flower, Trying, Benches
Charles Bukowski (2012). “Run With The Hunted: A Charles Bukowski Reader”, p.46, Harper Collins

Potential," I said, "doesn't mean a thing. You've got to do it. Almost every baby in a crib has more potential than I have.

Charles Bukowski
Baby, Mean, Said
Charles Bukowski (1978). “Women”

my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.

Charles Bukowski
War, Wine, World
Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.364, Canongate Books

I would certainly end up forever crying the blues into a coffee cup in a park for old men playing chess or silly games of some sort.

Charles Bukowski
Coffee, Silly, Men

That's the way it ends. The thin edge of the wedge.

Charles Bukowski
Way, Ends, Wedges

It’s nice enough to make a man weep, but I don’t weep, do you?

Charles Bukowski
Nice, Men, Enough
Charles Bukowski (2016). “On Love”, p.207, Canongate Books

The Artist," an ancient sage had once said, "is always sitting on the doorsteps of the rich.

Charles Bukowski
Artist, Sitting, Sage

purple does something strange to me

Charles Bukowski
Purple, Doe, Strange

A woman must be nursed into subsistence by love, where a man can become stronger by being hated." - from 'Cows in Art Class

Charles Bukowski
Art, Men, Class

It was hard for me to believe. When recess was over I sat in class and thought about it. My mother had a hole and my father had a dong that shot juice. How could they have things like that and walk around as if everything was normal, and talk about things, and then do it and not tell anybody?

Charles Bukowski
Mother, Father, Believe
Charles Bukowski (2001). “Ham On Rye”, p.51, Canongate Books

it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.

Charles Bukowski
Grief, Ocean, Ashes
Charles Bukowski (2009). “What Matters Most is How Well You”, p.35, Harper Collins

That's how it is with books, isn't it: They're not in a hurry. They'll wait for you till you're ready. People empty me. I have to go away to refill.

Charles Bukowski
Book, People, Waiting

I can't think of any poet-recluses outside of one dead Jeffers. [Robinson Jeffers] The rest of them want to slobber over each other and hug each other. It appears to me that I am the last of the poet-recluses.

Charles Bukowski
Thinking, Hug, Want
Source: bukowski.net

They laughed. Things were funny. They weren't afraid to care. There was no sense to life, to the structure of things.

Charles Bukowski
Care, Structure, Laughed
Charles Bukowski (2001). “Ham On Rye”, p.184, Canongate Books

I was their bar freak, they needed me to make themselves feel better. just like, at times, I needed that graveyard.

Charles Bukowski
Feel Better, Bars, Freak

Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous thing

Charles Bukowski
Style, Answers, Dull

WHEN YOU LEAVE YOUR TYPEWRITER YOU LEAVE YOUR MACHINE GUN AND THE RATS COME POURING THROUGH.

Charles Bukowski
Writing, Gun, Typewriters
Charles Bukowski (2013). “Notes of a Dirty Old Man”, p.47, City Lights Books

And if there is anybody out there who is crazy enough to want to become a writer, I'd say go ahead, spit in the eye of the sun, hit those keys, it's the best madness going, the centuries need help, the species cry for light and gamble and laughter. Give it to them. There are enough words for all of us.

Charles Bukowski
Laughter, Crazy, Eye

for a man of 55 who didn't get laid until he was 23 and not very often until he was 50 I think that I should stay listed via Pacific Telephone until I get as much as the average man has had

Charles Bukowski
Men, Thinking, Average

I am this fiery snail crawling home.

Charles Bukowski
Home, Crawling, Snail

when the phone rings I too would like to hear words that might ease some of this.

Charles Bukowski
Phones, Ease, Might

I'm only interested in poetry.

Charles Bukowski

you are yesterday's bouquet so sadly raided

Charles Bukowski
Yesterday, Bouquets
Charles Bukowski (2016). “On Love”, p.19, Canongate Books

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