Without literature, life is hell.

— Charles Bukowski

Women were beyond me. They saw something depraved. There was one waitress little older than, she rather smiled, lingered when she brought my coffee. That was plenty for me, that was enough.- Young in New Orleans

— Charles Bukowski

Writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all

— Charles Bukowski

Writing is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down, and it's something that happens, or it may not happen. So, how can you teach anybody how to write? It's beyond me, because you yourself don't even know if you're going to be able to. I'm always worried, well, you know, every time I go upstairs with my wine bottle. Sometimes I'll sit at that typewriter for fifteen minutes, you know. I don't go up there to write. The typewriter's up there. If it doesn't start moving, I say, well this could be the night that I hit the dust.

— Charles Bukowski

Ya got cigarettes?” she asks. “Yes,” I say,“I got cigarettes.” “Matches?” she asks.”Enough to burn Rome.” “Whiskey?”“Enough whiskey for a Mississippi River of pain.” “You have drunk?” “Not yet.

— Charles Bukowski

Yawn... I believe that I love sleep much more than anybody I’ve ever met. I have the ability to sleep for2 or 3 days and nights. I will go to bed at any given moment. I often confused my girlfriends this way—say it would be about onethirtyin the afternoon:“well, I’m going to bed now, I’going to sleep…” most of them wouldn’t mind, they would go to bed with rethinking I was hinting forsexbut I would just turn my backhand snore off. This, of course, could explain why so many of my girlfriends left me. As for doctors, they were never any help:“listen, I have this desire Togo to bed and sleep, almost all the time. What is wrong withe?”“do you get enough exercise?”“yes…”“are you getting enough nourishment?”“yes…” they always handed me aprescriptionwhich I threw away between the office and the parking lot.it’s a curious malady because I can’t sleep between6 p.m. and midnight.it must occur aftermidnightand when I arise it can never be before noon. And should the phone ring say at 10:30 a.m. I go into a mad raged on’t even ask who the callerisscream into the phone: “WHAT ARE OUTCALLING ME FOR AT CHISHOLM!” hangup…every person, I suppose, has their eccentricities but in an effort to formalin the world’Martha overcome them and therefore destroy their special calling. I’ve kept mine and do believe that they have lent generously Tom existence. I think it’s the main reason Decided to become writer: I can type anytime andsleepwhen I damn well please.

— Charles Bukowski

Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet.‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’‘Oh, a writer, eh?’‘Yes.’‘Are you sure?’‘No, I’m not.’‘What do you write?’‘Short stories mostly. And I’m halfway through a novel.’‘A novel, eh?’‘Yes.’‘What’s the name of it?’‘” The Leaky Faucet of My Doom.”‘‘Oh, I like that. What’s it about?’‘Everything.’‘Everything? You mean, for instance, it’s about cancer?’‘Yes.’‘How about my wife?’‘She’s in there too.

— Charles Bukowski

Yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights as this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

— Charles Bukowski

Yes Yes when God created love he didn't help most when God created dogs He didn't help dogs when God created plants that was average when God created hate we had a standard utility when God created me He created me when God created the monkey He was asleep when He created the giraffe He was drunk when He created narcotics He was high and when He created suicide He was low when He created you lying in bed He knew what He was doing He was drunk, and He was high, and He created the mountains and the sea and fire at the same time He made some mistakes but when He created you lying in bed He came all over His Blessed Universe.

— Charles Bukowski

You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.

— Charles Bukowski