Charles Bukowski Quotes about Rain

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I think that the world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just cats and rain, rain and cats, very nice, good night.

I think that the world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just cats and rain, rain and cats, very nice, good night.

Charles Bukowski

Good Night, Nice, Rain

people run from rain but sit in bathtubs full of water.

Charles Bukowski

Running, Rain, People

Are people crazy? People waited all their lives. They waited to live, they waited to die. They waited in line to buy toilet paper. They waited in line for money. And if they didn't have any money they waited in longer lines. You waited to go to sleep and then you waited to awaken. You waited to get married and you waited to get divorced. You waited for it to rain, you waited for it to stop. You waited to eat and then you waited to eat again. You waited in a shrink's office with a bunch of psychos and you wondered if you were one.

Charles Bukowski

Crazy, Rain, Sleep

Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. The less I needed the better I felt.

Charles Bukowski

Rain, Dark, Feel Good

Charles Bukowski, “Let It Enfold You”

It will rain all this night and we will sleep transfixed by the dark water as our blood runs through our fragile life.

Charles Bukowski

Running, Rain, Sleep

Charles Bukowski (2002). “Il grande”, p.260, Feltrinelli Editore

I would give anything for a female's hand on me tonight. they soften a man and then leave him listening to the rain.

Charles Bukowski

Rain, Men, Hands

Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.301, Canongate Books

I once lay in a white hospital for the dying and the dying self, where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die, where on my knees I prayed for LIGHT, I prayed for l*i*g*h*t, and praying crawled like a blind slug into the web where threads of wind stuck against my mind and I died of pity for Man, for myself, on a cross without nails, watching in fear as the pig belches in his sty, farts, blinks and eats.

Charles Bukowski

Rain, Men, Wind