Charles Bukowski · 144 pages
Rating: (3.9K votes)
“I stopped looking for a Dream Girl, I just wanted one that wasn't a nightmare.”
“The fuckers. There, I feel better. God-damned human race. There, I feel better.”
“In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass.”
“It was better for me when I could imagine greatness in others, even if it wasn't always there.”
“There is nothing that teaches you more than regrouping
after failure and moving on. Yet most people are stricken with
fear. They fear failure so much that they fail. They are too
conditioned, too used to being told what to do. It begins with
the family, runs through school and goes into the business
world.”
“There are only two things wrong with money: too much or too little.”
“But my whole life has been a matter of fighting for one simple hour to do what I want to do. There was always something getting in the way of my getting to myself.”
“I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide.
I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.”
“There's nothing to stop a man from writing unless that man
stops himself. If a man truly desires to write, then he will.
Rejection and ridicule will only strengthen him. And the longer
he is held back the stronger he will become, like a mass of rising
water against a dam. There is no losing in writing, it will make your toes laugh
as you sleep, it will make you stride like a tiger, it will fire
the eye and put you face to face with death. You will die a fighter,
you will be honored in hell. The luck of the word. Go with it, send it.”
“Most people are not ready for death, theirs or anybody elses.”
“I guess I´m too used to sitting in a small room and making
words do a few things. I see enough of humanity at the
racetracks, the supermarkets, gas stations, freeways, cafes,
etc. This can´t be helped. But I feel like kicking myself in
the ass when I go to gatherings, even if the drinks are free.
It never works for me. I´ve got enough clay to play with.
People empty me. I have to get away to refill. I´m what´s best
for me, sitting here slouched, smoking a beedie and watching
this creen flash the words. Seldom do you meet a rare or
interesting person. It´s more than galling, it´s a fucking
constant shock. It´s making a god-damned grouch out of me.
Anybody can be a god-damned grouch and most are. Help!”
“Capitalism has survived communism. Now, it eats away at itself.”
“There's nothing to mourn about death any more than there is to mourn about the growing of a flower. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don't live up until
their death.”
“I just let it roll. Like a hot turd down a hill.”
“Some people have written that my writing has helped them go on.
It has helped me too. The writing, the roses, the 9 cats.”
“There's a small balcony here, the door is open and I can see the lights of
the cars on the Harbor Freeway south, they never stop, that roll of lights, on and on.
All those people. What are they doing? What are they thinking? We're all
going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't.
”
“The whole world is a sack of shit ripping open. I can´t save it.”
“..few writers like other writers' works. The only time they like them is when they are dead or if they have been for a long time. Writers only like to sniff their own turds. I am one of those. I don't even like to talk to writers, look at them or worse, listen to them. And the worst is to drink with them, they slobber all over themselves, really look piteous, look like they are searching for the wing of the mother.
I'd rather think about death than about other writers. Far more pleasant.”
“As we live we all get caught and torn by various traps. Nobody escapes them. Some even live with them. The idea is to realize that a trap is a trap. If you are in one and you don't realize it, then you're finished.”
“I know what a park bench is and the landlord's knock. There are only two things wrong with money: too much or too little.”
“.... Тази вечер се чувствам отровен, смачкан, употребен, износен до кокал. Не е само заради старостта, но сигурно е свързано с нея. Мисля, че тълпата, онази тълпа, Човечеството, което винаги ми е било трудно да приема, тази тълпа най-накрая ще ме победи. Мисля, че големият проблем е, че при всички тези хора всичко се повтаря. В тях няма нищо свежо. Няма дори малко чудо. Те просто ме изтощават, изтощават. Ако някой ден видя поне ЕДИН човек, който прави или казва нещо необикновено, това ще ми помогне да се спася. Но те са вкиснати, кирливи. Няма живец. Очи, уши, крака, гласове, но ... нищо. Те се мумифицират, самозаблуждават се, преструват се на живи...”
“I think that people who keep notebooks and jot down their thoughts are jerk-offs. I am only doing this because somebody suggested I do it, so you see, I'm not even an original jerk-off. But this somehow makes it easier. I just let it roll. Like a hot turd down a hill.”
“What are they thinking? We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”
“...we are all voluntary members of a concentration camp.”
“Then I take a dump. Feel better. Take off my clothes and step into the pool. Ice water. But great. I walk along toward the deep end of the pool, the water rising inch by inch, chilling me. Then I plunge below the water. It's restful. The world doesn't know where I am. I come up, swim to the far edge, find the ledge, sit there. It must be about the 9th or 10th race. The horses are still running. I plunge again into the water, being aware of my stupid whiteness, of my age hanging onto me like a leech. Still, it's OK. I should have been dead 40 years ago. I rise to the top, swim to the far edge, get out.”
“Writing is when I fly, writing is when I start fires. Writing is when I take death out of my left pocket, throw him against the wall and catch him as he bounces back.”
“Ho bisogno soltanto di una buona notte di sonno. Ma tanto per incominciare, non c'è mai un cazzo di niente da leggere. Quando uno ha avuto una certa dose di buona letteratura, non ce n'è più, punto e basta. Bisogna scriversela da soli.”
“Look on the bright side: if you cause an inferno, you can always put it out with a tidal wave.”
“The slaves of paltriness, the frogs in life’s swamp, will naturally cry out, “Such a love is foolishness. The rich brewer’s widow is a match fully as good and respectable.” Let them croak.”
“The other girl was fifteen, and she was expecting”
“Because the world to-day is so constructed that no one can do what he would like to do, and he is forced, instead, to do what others wish him to do. Because the question of money always intrudes—into what we do, into what we are, into what we wish to become, into our work, into our highest aspirations, even into our relations with the people we love!”
“How will I make a people who do not understand the power of belief believe? And without their belief Mother Earth will wither and Yuletide will fade...and so, too will I...like all the spirits and gods before me.”
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