“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I'll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.” — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet. ‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’ ‘Oh, a writer, eh?’ ‘Yes.’… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“presumed that the reader was as fascinated by her life as she was - which was a deadly mistake. The other deadly… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Christmas poem to a man in jail hello Bill Abbott: I appreciate your passing around my books in jail there, my poems… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I reached over, opened it in the middle, and began reading Tolstoy's War and Peace. Nothing had changed. It was still a… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Don't ever write a novel unless it hurts like a hot turd coming out. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“What will you do?" "Oh, hell, I'll write a novel about writing the screenplay and making the movie." "What are you going… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I could read the great books but the great books don't interest me. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I read my books at night, like that, under the quilt with the overheated reading lamp. Reading all those good lines while… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
a good book can make an almost impossible existence, liveable ( from 'the luck of the word' ) — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
It’s not so much that nothing means anything but more that it keeps meaning nothing. there’s no release, just gurus and self-… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I have been hanging here headless for so long that the body has forgotten why or where or when it happened and… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I will remember the kisses our lips raw with love and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“nothing in the air but clouds. nothing in the air but rain. each man’s life too short to find meaning and all… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee,… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“The Genius Of The Crowd there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average human being to supply any given army… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I often carry things to read so that I will not have to look at the people. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“Yes, I know what you mean about writing and writers. We seem to have lost the target. Writers seem to write to… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“just waiting is the worst. nothing worse than waiting just waiting. always hated to wait. what’s there about waiting that’s so intolerable?… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“A. Huxley died at 69, much too early for such a fierce talent, and I read all his works but actually Point… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
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… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“A writer is not a writer because he has written some books. A writer is not a writer because he teaches literature.… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I walked around the library looking for books. I pulled them off the shelves, one by one. But they were all tricks.… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
There's nothing like privacy. You know, I like people. It's nice that they might like my books and all that...but I'm not… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“sometimes when everything seems at its worst when all conspires and gnaws and the hours, days, weeks years seem wasted – stretched there upon… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
well, death says, as he walks by, I'm going to get you anyhow no matter what you've been: writer, cab-driver, pimp, butcher, sky-diver, I'm… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“There is only one place to write and that is alone at a typewriter. A writer who has to go into the streets is… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Even the stove and the refrigerator looked human, I mean good human - they seemed to have arms and voices and they said, hang… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“nerves twitching in the sheets -- to face the sunlight again, that's clearly trouble. I like the city better when the neon lights are… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“Their Love Is Average, Seeks Average But There Is Genius In Their Hatred” — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I climbed the stairway (there was no elevator) and put the key in. The door swung open. Somebody had changed all the furniture around,… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“Strangers when you meet, strangers when you part -a gymnasium of bodies namelessly masturbating each other. People with no morals often considered themselves more… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I like to change liquor stores frequently because the clerks got to know your habits if you went in night and day and bought… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I was like a turd that drew flies instead of like a flower that butterflies and bees desired. I wanted to live alone,I felt… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
