I have gotten so used to melancholia that I greet it like an old friend.

Charles Bukowski

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Do not ignore it. Fuck it. Cry your heart out. Then fuck it some more.

Charles Bukowski

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To ask them to legalize pot is something like asking them to put butter on the handcuffs before they place them on you: something else is hurting you—that's why you need pot, or whiskey, or whips and rubber suits, or screaming music turned so fucking loud you can't think. Or madhouses or mechanical cunts or 162 baseball games in a season. Or Vietnam or Israel or the fear of spiders.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés drugs whiskey realism bukowski pot legalize weed dirty-realism legalization

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Turguenev era um homem muito sério mas fazia-me rir porque a verdade quando é encontrada pela primeira vez pode ser divertida. Quando a verdade de alguém é semelhante à tua verdade, e parece que está apenas a dizê-la a ti, é fantástico.

Charles Bukowski

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Death is nothing, brother, it's life that's hard

Charles Bukowski

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Here came the waitress. She had on a mini-skirt, high heels, see-through blouse with padded brassiere. Everything was too small for her: her outfit, the world, her mind. Her face was hard as steel. When she smiled it hurt. It hurt her and it hurt me. She kept smiling. That smile was so false the hairs on my arms rose. I looked away.

Charles Bukowski

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A comida faz bem aos nervos e ao espírito. A coragem vem do estômago - tudo o resto é desespero.

Charles Bukowski

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There are only two things wrong with money: too much or too little.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés truth-about-the-world

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You don't go on "probably" when love and guns are in hand.

Charles Bukowski

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I killed four flies while waiting. Damn, death was everywhere. Man, bird, beast, reptile, rodent, insect, fish didn't have a chance. The fix was in. I didn't know what to do about it. I got depressed. You know, I see a boy at the supermarket, he's packing my groceries, then I see him sticking himself into his own grave along with the toilet paper, the beer and the chicken breasts.

Charles Bukowski

Mots clés life death realism

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