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Charles-bukowski Quotes

Why did I come here? I thought. Why is it always only a matter of choosing between something bad and...

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If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.

I do think that poetry is important though, if you don’t strive at it, if you don’t fill it full of ...

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there are so many dayswhen living stops and pulls up and sitsand waits like a train on the rails.

The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts while the stupid one ar...

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all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair o...

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Mëso të mos e shkatërrosh me fjalë atë çfarë ke ndërtuar me heshtje.

the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vas...

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If I bet on humanity, I'd never cash a ticket.

Sometimes things are just what they seem to be and that's all there is to it.

during my worst timeson the park benchesin the jailsor living withwhoresI always had this certaincon...

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nothing's news.it's the same old thing indisguise.only one thing comes without adisguise and you onl...

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unaccountably we are aloneforever aloneand it was meant to bethat way,it was never meantto be any ot...

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I guess the only time most people think about injustice is when it happens to them.

Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?

no concept of danger, reality, flow or compassion. you can feel the despair escaping from their mach...

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Charles BukowskiSifting Through the Madness for the Word

I am sick with caring.

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Charles BukowskiThe People Look Like Flowers at Last

peace of mind and heartarriveswhen we accept what is:having beenborn into thisstrange lifewe must ac...

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wesat theresmokingcigarettesat5in the morning.

all theorieslike clichesshot to hell,all these small faceslooking upbeautiful and believing;I wish t...

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Charles BukowskiWhat Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire

the best part waspulling down theshadesstuffing the doorbellwith ragsputting the phonein therefriger...

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Charles BukowskiYou Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense