I wasn't much of a petty thief. I wanted the whole world or nothing.
Catalog
Charles Bukowski
Henry Charles Bukowski (born Heinrich Karl Bukowski; August 16, 1920 – March 9, 1994) was a German-born American poet, novelist, and short story writer. His writing was influenced by the social, cultural, and economic ambience of his home city of Los Angeles. His work addresses the ordinary lives of poor Americans, the act of writing, alcohol, relationships with women, and the drudgery of work. Bukowski wrote thousands of poems, hundreds of short stories and six novels, eventually publishing over 60 books. The FBI kept a file on him as a result of his column, Notes of a Dirty Old Man, in the LA underground newspaper Open City. In 1986 Time called Bukowski a "laureate of American lowlife". Regarding Bukowski's enduring popular appeal, Adam Kirsch of The New Yorker wrote, "the secret of Bukowski's appeal. . . [is that] he combines the confessional poet's promise of intimacy with the larger-than-life aplomb of a pulp-fiction hero." 2Life 3Family and early years Charles Bukowski was born as Heinrich Karl Bukowski in Andernach, Germany, to Heinrich (Henry) Bukowski, a German-American in the U.S. army of occupation after World War I who remained in Germany after his army service, and Katharina (née Fett). His paternal grandfather Leonard Bukowski, an ethnic German, had immigrated to America from the German Empire in the 1880
You have to die a few times first, till you can really live.
You have to die a few times before you can really live.
The heart roars like a lion at what they’ve done to us.
I am a series of small victories and large defeats and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here.
You have to die a few times before you can really live.
great writers are indecent people they live unfairly saving the best part for paper. good human beings save the world so that bastards like me can keep creating art.
A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.
How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you’ll never meet them. All right, so we do the best we can. Granted. But we must still realize that love is just the result of a chance encounter.
I'm tired of waiting to die. Let's go out.
Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you'll never meet them. All right, so we do the…
Life's as kind as you let it be.
I often carry things to read so that I will not have to look at the people.
Writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all.
People are strange: They are constantly angered by trivial things, but on a major matter like totally wasting their lives, they hardly seem to notice.
...she has saved me from everything that is not here.
I need a good woman. I need a good woman more than I need this typewriter, more than I need my automobile, more than I need Mozart; I need a good woman so badly that I can taste her in the air, I can feel her at my fingertips, I can see sidewalks built for her feet to walk upon, I can see pillows…
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
I no longer want it all, just some comfort and some sex and some minor love.
I think that whatever I do is my business. I do it because if I don’t I’m finished. I’m selfish: I do it for myself to save what is left of myself.