Wherever the crowd goes run in the other direction. They're always wrong. Charles Bukowski More Quotes by Charles Bukowski More Quotes From Charles Bukowski 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. Charles Bukowski rain wind men To me Art (poetry) is a continuous and continuing process and that when a man fails to write good poetry he fails to live fully or well. Charles Bukowski writing men art the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The Wine of Forever Charles Bukowski wine writing men I don't think I have written a poem when I was completely sober. But I have written a few good ones or a few bad ones under the hammer of a black hangover when I didn't know whether another drink or a blade would be the best thing. Charles Bukowski hangover black thinking Sometimes a man doesn’t know what to do about things and sometimes it’s best to lie very still and try not to think at all about anything. Charles Bukowski men lying thinking I am for the small man who has not forgotten, for the man who loves his beer and his women and his sunlight Charles Bukowski forgotten beer men We waste days like mad blackbirds and pray for alcoholic nightsour silk-sick human smiles wrap around us like somebody else's confetti Charles Bukowski mad sick bird That's your response to everything: drink?" "No, that's my response to nothing. Charles Bukowski response drink This is a world where everybody’s gotta do something. Ya know, somebody laid down this rule that everybody’s gotta do something, they gotta be something. You know, a dentist, a glider pilot, a narc, a janitor, a preacher, all that . . . Sometimes I just get tired of thinking of all the things that I don’t wanna do. All the things that I don’t wanna be. Places I don’t wanna go, like India, like getting my teeth cleaned. Save the whale, all that, I don’t understand that . . . Charles Bukowski whales tired thinking I am too sick to lay down the sidewalks frighten me the whole damned city frightens me, what I will become what I have become frightens me. Charles Bukowski sidewalk sick cities My part of the game is that I must live the best I can. Charles Bukowski i-can games I feel strangely normal. Charles Bukowski normal feels I'm not the cruel type, but they are, and that's the secret. Charles Bukowski type secret Even the stove and the refrigerator looked human, I mean good human - they seemed to have arms and voices and they said, hang around, kid, it's good here, it can be very good here. Charles Bukowski voice mean kids I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife inside because there was no alternative except to hide as long as possible--- not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance: trying to connect. Charles Bukowski knives hurt self It will rain all this night and we will sleep transfixed by the dark water as our blood runs through our fragile life. Charles Bukowski rain sleep running 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. They don't honor their own lives ... their minds are full of cotton. They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them.... Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die. Charles Bukowski flower country death I think that the world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just cats and rain, rain and cats, very nice, good night. Charles Bukowski nice good-night rain The empty, the angry, the lonely, the tricked, we are all museums of fear. Charles Bukowski empty lonely museums There's nothing else as pleasant as being unpleasant when there's nothing else to do, and there's usually nothing else to do. Charles Bukowski pleasant
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