“one doesn't even think of the liver and if the liver doesn't think of us, that's fine.” — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“Everything you own must be able to fit inside one suitcase; then your mind might be free.” — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“the worst thing," he told me, "is bitterness, people end up so bitter.” — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“when I drive the freeways I see the soul of humanity of my city and it's ugly, ugly, ugly: the living have… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I see a bright portion under the overhead light that shades into darkness and then into darker darkness and I can't see… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I found the best thing I could do was just to type away at my own work and let the dying die… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“I didn't know who to believe but one thing I do know: when a man is living many claim relationships that are… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“she slammed the door and was gone. I looked at the closed door and at the doorknob and strangely I didn't feel… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“when you're young a pair of female high-heeled shoes just sitting alone in the closet can fire your bones; when you're old… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“The area dividing the brain and the soul Is affected in many ways by experience -- Some lose all mind and become… — 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… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“it is so dark now with the sadness of people they were tricked, they were taught to expect the ultimate when nothing… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“unaccountably we are alone forever alone and it was meant to be that way, it was never meant to be any other… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“Whether I was a genius or not did not so much concern me as the fact that I simply did not want… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“when we were kids laying around the lawn on our bellies we often talked about how we'd like to die and we… — 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
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
“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
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
“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
“Their Love Is Average, Seeks Average But There Is Genius In Their Hatred” — Charles Bukowski Copy Share
“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
“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
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
“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
I went home each night dizzy and sick. He was murdering me with the sound of his voice. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share
“the nights you fight best are when all the weapons are pointed at you, when all the voices hurl their insults while the dream… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share
