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"Having nothing to struggleagainstthey have nothing to strugglefor."
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"But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. You are laughing- no, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are forever angry, all you care about is intelligence, but I repeat again that I would give away all this superstellar life, all the ranks and honours, simply to be transformed into the soul of a merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone and set candles at God's shrine."
"He who hates easiness in life will always find a though mountain to climb!"
"As long as all that is said is said against me, I feel a certain sublime assurance of success, but as soon as honied words of praise are spoken for me, I feel as one that lies unprotected before his enemies."
"We struggle with the complexities and avoid the simplicities."
"He seemed to be lying on the bed. He could not see very well. Her youthful, rapacious face, with blackened eyebrows, leaned over him as he sprawled there."'How about my present?' she demanded, half wheedling, half menacing."Never mind that now. To work! Come here. Not a bad mouth. Come here. Come closer. Ah!"No. No use. Impossible. The will but not the way. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Try again. No. The booze, it must be. See Macbeth. One last try. No, no use. Not this evening, I'm afraid."All right, Dora, don't you worry. You'll get your two quid all right. We aren't paying by results."He made a clumsy gesture. 'Here, give us that bottle. That bottle off the dressing-table.'"Dora brought it. Ah, that's better. That at least doesn't fail."
"Now the trumpet summons us again - not as a call to bear arms though arms we need not as a call to battle though embattled we are but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle year in and year out 'rejoicing in hope patient in tribulation' a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny poverty disease and war itself."
"Thought-he told himself quietly-is a weapon one uses in order to act. No action was possible. Thought is the tool by which one makes a choice. No choice was left to him. Thought sets one's purpose and the way to reach it. In the matter of his life being torn piece by piece out of him, he was to have no voice, no purpose, no way, no defense."
"There is joy at the end of every struggle we face. But you can never cross over and get there with the boats of complains. Complainer is only an explainer of pain! Take action!"
"I'm Bipolar with PTSD there's no shortage of pain inside of me."
Explore more quotes by Charles Bukowski
"The world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem."
"All we do is sleep, and eat and lay around and make love. We're like slugs. Slug-love, I call it."
"My objection to war was not that I had to kill somebody or be killed senselessly, that hardly mattered. What I objected to was to be denied the right to sit in a small room and starve and drink cheap wine and go crazy in my own way and at my own leisure."
"You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time all else is grandiose romanticism or politics."
"Sometimes all we need to be able to continue aloneare the deadrattling the wallsthat close us in."
"Of one hundred movies there's one that is fair, one that's good and ninety eight that are very bad. most movies start badly and steadily get worse."
"There's no point in writing my kind of stuff, when they're printing that kind of stuff. So I gave up and started drinking."
"I killed four flies while waiting. Damn, death was everywhere. Man, bird, beast, reptile, rodent, insect, fish didn't have a chance. The fix was in. I didn't know what to do about it. I got depressed. You know, I see a boy at the supermarket, he's packing my groceries, then I see him sticking himself into his own grave along with the toilet paper, the beer and the chicken breasts."
"During my worst timeson the park benchesin the jailsor living withwhoresI always had this certaincontentment-I wouldn't call ithappiness-it was more of an innerbalancethat settled forwhatever was occuringand it helped in thefactoriesand when relationshipswent wrongwith thegirls.it helpedthrough thewars and thehangoversthe backalley fightsthehospitals.to awaken in a cheap roomin a strange city andpull up the shade-this was the craziest kind ofcontentmentand to walk across the floorto an old dresser with acracked mirror-see myself, ugly,grinning at it all.what matters most ishow well youwalk through thefire."
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