Henry Charles Bukowski (born Heinrich Karl Bukowski; August 16, 1920 – March 9, 1994) was a German-American poet, novelist, and short story writer.
There are times when those eyes inside your brain stare back at you.
What a weary time those years were -- to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.
Without literature, life is hell.
I'm not the cruel type, but they are, and that's the secret.
I was so thin I could slice bread with my shoulderblades, only I seldom had bread
The difference between a brave man and a coward is a coward thinks twice before jumping in the cage with a lion. The brave man doesn't know what a lion is. He just thinks he does.
People were usually much better in their letters than in reality. They were much like poets in this way.
Hey, Hank, I notice all the women around your place lately. . . good looking stuff; you're doing all right. " "Sam," I say, "that's not true; I am one of God's most lonely men.
Let' em learn or let' em die
An artist is a man who says a difficult thing in a simple way
Homosexuals are delicate and bad poetry is delicate and [Allen] Ginsberg turned the tables by making homosexual poetry strong poetry, almost manly poetry; but in the long run, the homo will remain the homo and not the poet.
but as God said, crossing his legs, I see where I have made plenty of poets but not so very much poetry.
Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad
Only the boring get bored
I remember when each 4th lot was vacant and overgrown, and the landlord only go this rent when you had it, and each day was clear and good and each moment was full of promise.
I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I didn't particularly want money. I didn't know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn't have to do anything. The thought of being something didn't only appall me, it sickened me. . . To do things, to be part of family picnics, Christmas, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Mother's Day. . . was a man born just to endure those things and then die? I would rather be a dishwasher, return alone to a tiny room and drink myself to sleep.
Never trust a man in a jumpsuit
I don't know if this is true to you but for me sometimes it gets so bad that anything else say like looking at a bird on an overhead power line seems as great as a Beethoven symphony. then you forget it and you're back again.
they simply never understand, do they, that sometimes solitude is one of the most beautiful things on earth?
I never pump up my vulgarity. I wait for it to arrive in its own terms.