all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the disso — Charles Bukowski
all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the disso — Charles Bukowski
all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the disso — Charles Bukowski
all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the disso — Charles Bukowski
all people start tocome apart finallyand there it is:just empty ashtrays in a roomor wisps of hair on a combin the disso — Charles Bukowski
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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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More “Charles bukowski” Quotes

Sometimes things are just what they seem to be and that's all there is to it. — Charles Bukowski
I do think that poetry is important though, if you don’t strive at it, if you don’t fill it full of stars and falseness. — Charles Bukowski
during my worst timeson the park benchesin the jailsor living withwhoresI always had this certaincontentment-I wouldn't — Charles Bukowski
If I bet on humanity, I'd never cash a ticket. — Charles Bukowski
Mëso të mos e shkatërrosh me fjalë atë çfarë ke ndërtuar me heshtje. — Charles Bukowski
I beg to differ on Charles Bukowski, who says nothing can save you, except writing. Sometimes, absolutely nothing will s — Ioana-Cristina Casapu
Any damn fool can beg up some kind of job — it takes a wise man to make it without working.
unaccountably we are aloneforever aloneand it was meant to bethat way,it was never meantto be any other way–and when the — Charles Bukowski, Come On In!: New Poems
all theorieslike clichesshot to hell,all these small faceslooking upbeautiful and believing;I wish to weepbut sorrow iss — Charles Bukowski, What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire
The ass is the face of the soul of sex. — Charles Bukowski
there are so many dayswhen living stops and pulls up and sitsand waits like a train on the rails. — Charles Bukowski
Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be? — Charles Bukowski, Post Office