i am with the roots of flowers entwined, entombed sending up my passionate blossoms as a flight of rockets and argument; wine… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Long before I became 'rich and famous' I just sat round drinking wine and staring at the walls. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Writing is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down and it's something that happens, or it may not… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“Hey, Bubu, a bottle of good French wine...Sip it slowly, do you most good. You'll sleep. Be happy. And if you want… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
the psyche has been burned and left us senseless, the world has been darker than lights-out in a closet full of hungry… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I think a man can keep on drinking for centuries, he'll never die; especially wine or beer...I like drunkards, man, because drunkards,… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I write right off the typer. I call it my "machinegun." I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
Everything was a trap: women, drugs, whiskey, wine, scotch, beer - even beer - cigars, and cigarettes. Traps: Work or no work.… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I was fairly poor but most of my money went for wine and classical music. I loved to mix the two together. — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine.… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
My objection to war was not that I had to kill somebody or be killed senselessly, that hardly mattered. What I objected… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
There would never be a way for me to live comfortably with people. Maybe I'd become a monk. I'd pretend to believe… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine! — 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
