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Charles Bukowski

Charles Bukowski Quotes

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Famous Charles Bukowski Quotes

“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”

ReligionAtheism
Author:Charles Bukowski
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“Si vas a intentarlo, que sea a fondo. Si no, mejor que ni empieces. Puede que pierdas familia, mujer, amistad, trabajos y hasta la cabeza. Puede que no comas en días, puede que te congeles en un banco de la calle. No importa. Es una prueba de resistencia para saber que puedes hacerlo. Y lo harás. A pesar del rechazo y de la incertidumbre, será mejor que cualquier cosa que hayas imaginado. Te sentirás a solas con los dioses, y las noches arderán en llamas. Cabalgarás la vida hasta la risa perfecta. Es la única batalla que cuenta.”

LiteraturaEscribirCharles Bukowski
Author:Charles Bukowski
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“People always talked about the good clean smell of fresh sweat. They had to make excuses for it. They never talked about the good clean smell of fresh shit. There was nothing really as glorious as a good beer shit - I mean after drinking twenty or twenty-five beers the night before. The odor of a beer shit like that spread all around and stayed for a good hour-and-a-half. It made you realize that you were really alive.”

ShitHam On RyeBog Grog
Book:Ham On Rye
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“I knew that I wasn’t entirely sane. I still knew, as I had as a child, that there was something strange about myself. I felt as if I were destined to be a murderer, a bank robber, a saint, a rapist, a monk, a hermit. I needed an isolated place to hide. Skid row was disgusting. The life of the sane, average man was dull, worse than death. There seemed to be no possible alternative. Education also seemed to be a trap. The little education I had allowed myself had made me more suspicious. What were doctors, lawyers, scientists? They were just men who allowed themselves to be deprived of their freedom to think and act as individuals. I went back to my shack and drank…”

Ham On Rye
Author:Charles Bukowski
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“How are ya gonna make it?” Becker asked. “Seems like I’ve heard that question all my life.” “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m going to try everything! War, women, travel, marriage, children, the works. The first car I own I’m going to take it completely apart! Then I’m going to put it back together again! I want to know about things, what makes them work! I’d like to be a correspondent in Washington, D.C. I’d like to be where big things are happening.” “Washington’s crap, Becker.” “And women? Marriage? Children?” “Crap.” “Yeah? Well, what do you want?” “To hide.” “You poor fuck. You need another beer.” “All right.” The beer arrived.”

BukowskiCharles BukowskiHam On Rye
Book:Ham On Rye
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“It was a Saturday night in December. I was in my room and I drank much more than usual, lighting cigarette after cigarette, thinking of girls and the city and jobs, and of the years ahead. Looking ahead I liked very little of what I saw. I wasn’t a misanthrope and I wasn’t a misogynist but I liked being alone. It felt good to sit alone in a small space and smoke and drink. I had always been good company for myself.”

BukowskiCharles BukowskiHam On Rye
Book:Ham On Rye
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“I sat back down and poured a glass of wine. I left my door open. The moonlight came in with the sounds of the city: juke boxes, automobiles, curses, dogs barking, radios.. .We were all in it together. We were all in one big shit pot together. There was no escape. We were all going to be flushed away. A small cat walked by, stopped at my door and looked in. The eyes were lit by the moon: pure red like fire. Such wonderful eyes. “Come on, kitty...” I held my hand out as if there were food in it. “Kitty, kitty...” The cat walked on by.”

BukowskiCharles BukowskiHam On Rye
Book:Ham On Rye
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“people just are not good to each other one on one. the rich are not good to the rich the poor are not good to the poor. we are afraid. our educational system tells us that we can all be big-ass winners. it hasn't told us about the gutters or the suicides. or the terror of one person aching in one place alone untouched unspoken to watering a plant. people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. I suppose they never will be. I don't ask them to be. but sometimes I think about it.”

Love Is A Dog From HellThe Crunch
Book:Love is a Dog From Hell
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“Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you'll never meet them. All right, so we do the best we can. Granted. But we must still realize that love is just the result of a chance encounter. Most people make too much of it. On these grounds a good fuck is not to be entirely scorned. But that's the result of a chance meeting too. You're damned right. Drink up. We'll have another.”

LoveWisdom
Author:Charles Bukowski
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“There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pur whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he's in there. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? you want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody's asleep. I say, I know that you're there, so don't be sad. then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there, I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep, but I don't weep, do you?”

Bluebird
Author:Charles Bukowski
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“এই একাকীত্বই মহান এটা যদি তুমি তোমার হাতে থাকা ঘড়ির কাঁটার গতিবিধির সাথে ধীরে ধীরে দ্যাখো। ভালোবাসার কারণে আজ মানুষ খুবই ক্লান্ত বিকলাঙ্গ মানুষ একে অপরের নিকট শুভ নয় তাঁরা একে অপরের প্রতি ধনীরা ধনীর সন্নিকটে শুভ নয় এক ফকিন্নি অপর ফকিন্নি প্রতিও। আমরা ভয়ে আছি। আমাদের শিক্ষাব্যবস্থা আমাদের বলে; নিশ্চই আমরা সবাই একদা বড় মাপের বিজয়ী গাধা হতে পারব। এটা আমাদের কখনো জ্ঞাত করেনি কোন বস্তিজীবন বা কোন আত্মহত্যা সম্বন্ধে। অথবা একটা নির্জনস্থানে একাকী পরে থাকা কোন সন্ত্রাসী অস্পৃষ্ট অদৃষ্ট কোন উদ্ভিদ ভরা জলার সম্বন্ধে।”

LifePoetryAngerCityMetropolisPolemics
Book:Bukowski on Bukowski
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“sex I am driving down Wilton Avenue when this girl of about 15 dressed in tight blue jeans that grip her behind like two hands steps out in front of my car I stop to let her cross the street and as I watch her contours waving she looks directly through my windshield at me with purple eyes and then blows out of her mouth the largest pink globe of bubble gum I have ever seen while I am listening to Beethoven on the car radio. she enters a small grocery store and is gone and I am left with Ludwig.”

Jerkoff
Book:Love is a Dog From Hell
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“You think of killing him on the spot but discard that thought and leave, down into the urine-stinking elevator, they have you crucified too, America at work, where they rip out your intestines and your brain and your will and your spirit. They suck you dry, then throw you away. The capitalist system. The work ethic. The profit motive. The memory of your father’s words, “work hard and you’ll be appreciated.” of course, only if you make much more for them than they pay you.”

WorkCapitalismProfitCapitalistWork EthicWorking Poor
Book:sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way: New Poems
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“There is a problem with writers. If what a writer wrote was published and sold many, many copies, the writer thought he was great. If what a writer wrote was published and sold a medium number of copies, the writer thought he was great. If what a writer wrote was published and sold very few copies, the writer thought he was great. If what the writer wrote never was published and he didn't have enough the money to publish it himself, then he thought he was truly great. The truth, however, was there was very little greatness. It was almost nonexistent, invisible. But you could be sure that the worst writers had the most confidence, the least self-doubt. Anyway, writers were to be avoided, and I tried to avoid them, but it was almost impossible. They hoped for some sort of brotherhood, some kind of togetherness. None of it had anything to do with writing, none of it helped at the typewriter.”

WritingWriters
Book:Women
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“Somos finos como papel.Existimos por acaso entre as percentagens, temporariamente. E esta é a melhor e a pior parte, o fator temporal. E não há nada que se possa fazer sobre isso. Você pode sentar no topo de uma montanha e meditar por décadas e nada vai mudar. Você pode mudar a si mesmo para ser aceitável, mas talvez isso também esteja errado. Talvez pensemos demais. Sinta mais, pense menos.”

VidaBukowskiPensamentosReflexões
Book:The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship
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“[...] a autoestrada é um circo de emoções baratas e mesquinhas, é a humanidade em movimento [...] as autoestradas são uma lição sobre aquilo em que nos transformamos e os acidentes e as mortes são na maioria uma colisão de seres incompletos, de vidas lamentáveis e dementes. quando dirijo pelas autoestradas eu vejo a alma da humanidade da minha cidade e ela é feia, feia, feia: os vivos sufocaram o coração de vez.”

VidaInfernoHumanidadeBukowskiEstradaDireçãoAutoestrada
Book:You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
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“We were in Jon's car. "I have the first part I need. The pain-killer. You see I had to go to a doctor for an ingrown toenail. He operated. Then he gave me a pain-killer afterwards. It worked great..." "Where are we going?" "You'll see. Anyhow, I had to go back to get the toe checked. I said to the doctor, 'That pain-killer was great, it lasted ten hours. Tell me about it.' He told me about it. Then I asked him, 'Can I see it?' And he took me to this medicine cabinet and pointed it out. 'Very interesting,' I said. We talked a bit more, then I left. But I had a bag with me, a small travelling bag. I left it by the medicine cabinet. Then I left the office, came back. 'Oh,' I told the receptionist, 'I left my bag.' I went to get the bag and there was nobody around. I opened the cabinet and took the pain-killer." "You can't do this," I told Jon. "I must, " he answered.”

TheftPain Killer Pills
Book:Hollywood
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