Ya got cigarettes?” she asks....

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 drunk?” “Not yet.

- Charles Bukowski

cigarettes drinking drowning-one-s-sorrows drowning-sorrows pain poem poetry smoking through-the-streets-of-anywhere whiskey

Other quotes by Charles Bukowski

Music is much like fucking, but some composers can't climax and others climax too often, leaving themselves and the listener jaded and spent.

- Charles Bukowski

I tell you such fine music waits in the shadows of hell.

- Charles Bukowski

The good times were over. Nobody gave a shit and nobody had any money and if they had any, they kept it.

- Charles Bukowski

unaccountably we are aloneforever aloneand it was meant to bethat way,it was never meantto be any other way–and when the death strugglebeginsthe last thing I wish to seeisa ring of human faceshovering over me–better just my old friends,the walls of my self,let only them be there.I have been alone but seldomlonely.I have satisfied my thirstat the wellof my selfand that wine was good,the best I ever had,and tonightsittingstaring into the darkI now finally understandthe dark and thelight and everythingin between.peace of mind and heartarriveswhen we accept whatis:having beenborn into thisstrange lifewe must acceptthe wasted gamble of ourdaysand take some satisfaction inthe pleasure ofleaving it allbehind.cry not for me.grieve not for me.readwhat I’ve writtenthenforget itall.drink from the wellof your selfand beginagain.Mind and Heart

- Charles Bukowski

all theorieslike clichesshot to hell,all these small faceslooking upbeautiful and believing;I wish to weepbut sorrow isstupid.I wish to believe but believe is agraveyard. we have narrowed it down tothe butcherknife and themockingbird wish usluck.

- Charles Bukowski

all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the dissolving moonlight.

- Charles Bukowski

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