Charles Bukowski Quotes

813 quotes · Poet, Novelist

Page 24 of 50

Charles Bukowski Quotes

All Lonely Sad Angry Funny Spiritual 813 quotes · page 24 of 50

Charles Bukowski

Poet, Novelist

Courageous

“The courage it took to get out of bed each morning to face the same things over and over was enormous.”

Morning Faces Bed

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Charles Bukowski

Poet, Novelist

Sad

“i am with the roots of flowers entwined, entombed sending up my passionate blossoms as a flight of rockets and argument; wine churls my throat, above me feet walk upon my brain, monkies fall from the sky clutching photographs of the planets, but i seek only music and the leisure of my pain”

Fall Pain Flower

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Melancholic

“I grow tired of 18th century moralities in a 20th century space-atomic age”

Age Space Tired

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Spiritual

“Careful poetry and careful people live only long enough to die safely.”

People Long

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Anxious

“New Year's Eve always terrifies me.”

Years New Year

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Angry

“I have two rules. One is, never trust a man who smokes a pipe. The other is, never trust a man with shiny shoes.”

Men Two Shoes

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Sad

“if you get married they think you're finished and if you are without a woman they think you're incomplete.”

Thinking Marriage Wedding

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Angry

“People who believe in politics are like people who believe in God: they are sucking wind through bent straws.”

People Believe Wind

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Grateful

“The hangover was brutal but he didn't mind. It told him he had been somewhere else, someplace good.”

Mind Somewhere Else Hangover

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Love

“Love is all right for those who can handle the psychic overload. It's like trying to carry a full garbage can on your back over a rushing river of piss.”

Love Is Psychics Garbage Cans

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Angry

“The ladies usually go for the biggest damn fool they can find; that is why the human race stands where it does today: we have bred the clever and lasting Casanovas, all hollow inside, like the chocolate Easter bunnies we foster upon our poor children.”

Children Clever Easter

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Spiritual

“I once lay in a white hospital for the dying and the dying self, where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die, where on my knees I prayed for LIGHT, I prayed for l*i*g*h*t, and praying crawled like a blind slug into the web where threads of wind stuck against my mind and I died of pity for Man, for myself, on a cross without nails, watching in fear as the pig belches in his sty, farts, blinks and eats.”

Men Wind Rain

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