Bad taste creates many more millionaires than good taste. Charles Bukowski More Quotes by Charles Bukowski More Quotes From Charles Bukowski 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 Charles Bukowski pain flower fall Never envy a man his lady. Behind it all lays a living hell. Charles Bukowski envy hell men as a child i suppose i was not quite normal. my happiest times were when i was left alone in the house on a saturday. Charles Bukowski normal house children I didn't have any friends at school, didn't want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. Charles Bukowski benches play school If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates. Charles Bukowski junk dog love-is The night kept coming on in and there was nothing I could do. Charles Bukowski night We’ve died so many times now that we can only wonder why we still care. Charles Bukowski care stills wonder If you want to know where God is, ask a drunk. Charles Bukowski drunk knows want I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard. Charles Bukowski sad stupid believe Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and something worse? Charles Bukowski matter I have no time for things that have no soul. Charles Bukowski ordinary-world understand-me soul I felt I had to win. It seemed very important. I didn't know why it was important and I kept thinking, why do I think this is so important? And another part of me answered, just because it is. Charles Bukowski important winning thinking If I bet on humanity, I'd never cash a ticket. Charles Bukowski tickets cash humanity ..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. Charles Bukowski mother wings thinking pain is absurd because it exists, nothing more. Charles Bukowski absurd pain I think that everything should be made available to everybody, and I mean LSD, cocaine, codeine, grass, opium, the works. Nothing on earth available to any man should be confiscated and made unlawful by other men in more seemingly powerful and advantageous positions. Charles Bukowski powerful funny mean ...maybe a damned good night's sleep will bring me back to a gentle sanity. But at the moment, I look about this room and, like myself, it's all in disarray: things fallen out of place, cluttered, jumbled, lost, knocked over and I can't put it straight, don't want to. Perhaps living through these petty days will get us ready for the dangerous ones. Charles Bukowski good-night sleep looks Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die. Charles Bukowski left dies people If you let them kill you, they will Charles Bukowski ifs I am a series of small victories and large defeats. Charles Bukowski small-victories defeat victory
