Charles Bukowski Quotes About Dogs

Quotes about: Dogs

• dogs and angels are not very far apart

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Angel

• If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Love Is, Junk

• Dog is much admired by Man because he believes in the hand which feeds him. A perfect set-up. For 13 cents a day you've got a hired killer who thinks you are god. A dog can't tell a Nazi from a Republican from a Commie from a Democrat and, many times, neither can I.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Believe, Men

• I could scream down 90 mountains to less than dust if only one living human had eyes in the head and heart in the body, but there is no chance, my god, no chance. rat with rat dog with dog hog with hog, play the piano drunk listen to the drunk piano, realize the myth of mercy stand still as even a child's voice snarls and we have not been fooled, it was only that we wanted to believe.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Children, Believe

• The dog approached again, cautiously. I found the bologna sandwich, ripped off a chunk, wiped the cheap watery mustard off, then placed it on the sidewalk. The dog walked up to the bit of sandwich, put his nose to it, sniffed, then turned and walked off. This time he didn't look back. He accelerated down the street. No wonder I had been depressed all my life. I wasn't getting proper nourishment.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Looks, Sandwiches

  Charles Bukowski (2001). “Ham On Rye”, p.224, Canongate Books

• the impossibility of being human all too human this breathing in and out out and in these punks these cowards these champions these mad dogs of glory moving this little bit of light toward us impossibly.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Moving, Light

  Charles Bukowski (2009). “You Get So Alone at Times”, p.21, Harper Collins

• little sun little moon little dog and a little to eat and a little to love and a little to live for in a little room filled with little mice who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep waiting for a little death in the middle of a little morning in a little city in a little state my little mother dead my little father dead in a little cemetery somewhere. I have only a little time to tell you this: watch out for little death when he comes running but like all the billions of little deaths it will finally mean nothing and everything: all your little tears burning like the dove, wasted.

  Charles Bukowski

  Mother, Running, Dog

  Charles Bukowski (2009). “sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way: New Poems”, p.308, Zondervan

• Love is a Dog from Hell.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Love Is, Hell

  1977 Title of book.

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