young or old, good or bad, I don't think anything dies as slow and as hard as a writer.
Charles Bukowskiwell, death says, as he walks by, I'm going to get you anyhow no matter what you've been: writer, cab-driver, pimp, butcher, sky-diver, I'm going to get you
Charles BukowskiMots clés death
I was so thin I could slice bread with my shoulderblades, only I seldom had bread
Charles BukowskiMots clés bread poor thin shoulderblades
animals never worry about Heaven or Hell. neither do I. maybe that's why we get along
Charles BukowskiI could read the great books but the great books don't interest me.
Charles BukowskiMots clés reading books classics
writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all
Charles BukowskiMots clés writing writers-block
Our source is private."
"So are your parts but you can expose them".
there was a soldier in the next room living with his wife and he would soon be going over there to protect me from Hitler so I snapped the radio off and then heard his wife say, "you shouldn't have done that." and the soldier said, "FUCK THAT GUY!" which I thought was a very nice thing for him to tell his wife to do. of course, she never did.
Charles Bukowskithere's no defense
except all the errors
made
Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.
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