“one day Manuel returned to the place, and she was gone - no argument, no note, just gone, all her clothes all her stuff, and Manuel sat by the window and looked out and didn't make his job the next… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the… — 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
