Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing. — Charles Bukowski
Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing. — Charles Bukowski
Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing. — Charles Bukowski
Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing. — Charles Bukowski
Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing. — Charles Bukowski
Download Customize

Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing.

— Charles Bukowski
Pin Share Tweet Telegram
Topics
ecstasy immortality life and death sex

More “Ecstasy” Quotes

Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, on — Anaïs Nin, Incest: From a Journal of Love
We are sometimes dragged into a pit of unhappiness by someone else’s opinion that we do not look happy. — Mokokoma Mokhonoana
Of all our games, love's play is the only one which threatens to unsettle the soul, and is also the only one in which th — Marguerite Yourcenar, Memoirs of Hadrian
Each one of us has a purpose in this life. We are born not just to pay the bills and live an unremarkable existence. We — Avijeet Das
The ongoing struggle to achieve a profound harmony between the deepest and most conflicting impulses of human beings ins — Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls
In my silence and stillness, my soul dances with the ecstasy of life. — Debasish Mridha
Music can touch that deepest portion of the soul where nothing else can reach. It can fill our hearts with indescribable — Debasish Mridha
Music fills the emptiness of our souls with the indescribable universal ecstasy — Debasish Mridha
Talent is cheap — dedication is expensive. It will cost you your life.
We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. Thi — G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy
How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!”“Spoken like — Seth Grahame-Smith, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
On the blue summer evenings, I will go along the paths,And walk over the short grass, as I am pricked by the wheat:Daydr — Arthur Rimbaud