Charles Bukowski Quotes About Wine

Quotes about: Wine

• I was fairly poor but most of my money went for wine and classical music. I loved to mix the two together.

  Charles Bukowski

  Wine, Two, Together

• 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.

  Charles Bukowski

  Crazy, War, Wine

• Writing is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down and it's something that happens, or it may not happen. So, how can you teach anybody how to write? It's beyond me, because you yourself don't even know if you're going to be able to. I'm always worried, well, you know, every time I go upstairs with my wine bottle. Sometimes I'll sit at that typewriter for fifteen minutes, you know. I don't go up there to write. The typewriter's up there. If it doesn't start moving, I say, well this could be the night that I hit the dust.

  Charles Bukowski

  Fear, Moving, Wine

• the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.

  Charles Bukowski

  Taken, Wine, Air

  Charles Bukowski (2009). “sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way: New Poems”, p.101, Zondervan

• I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!

  Charles Bukowski

  Lonely, Loneliness, Wine

  Charles Bukowski (2003). “Sunlight Here I Am: Interviews and Encounters, 1963-1993”

• Everything was a trap: women, drugs, whiskey, wine, scotch, beer - even beer - cigars, and cigarettes. Traps: Work or no work. Traps: Artistry or no artistry; everything sucked you into some spiderweb. I disdained the use of the needle for the same reason that I disdained some so-called beautiful women - the price was far beyond the measure of the worth. I didn't want to hustle that hard.

  Charles Bukowski

  Beautiful, Wine, Beer

  Charles Bukowski (2008). “Charles Bukowski: portions from a wine-stained notebook : uncollected stories and essays, 1944-1990”, City Lights Publishers

• yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

  Charles Bukowski

  Running, Wine, Night

  Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.116, Canongate Books

• There would never be a way for me to live comfortably with people. Maybe I'd become a monk. I'd pretend to believe in God and live in a cubicle, play an organ and stay drunk on wine.

  Charles Bukowski

  Believe, Wine, Play

  Charles Bukowski (2001). “Ham On Rye”, p.182, Canongate Books

• the writing of some men is like a vast bridge that carries you over the many things that claw and tear. The Wine of Forever

  Charles Bukowski

  Writing, Wine, Men

• the psyche has been burned and left us senseless, the world has been darker than lights-out in a closet full of hungry bats, and the whiskey and wine entered our veins when blood was too weak to carry on

  Charles Bukowski

  Wine, Blood, Light

  Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.60, Canongate Books

• i am with the roots of flowers entwined, entombed sending up my passionate blossoms as a flight of rockets and argument; wine churls my throat, above me feet walk upon my brain, monkies fall from the sky clutching photographs of the planets, but i seek only music and the leisure of my pain

  Charles Bukowski

  Pain, Flower, Fall

• there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone. sitting up in my bed the lights out, hearing the outside sounds, lifting my cheap bottle of wine, letting the warmth of the grape enter me as I heard the rats moving about the room, I preferred them to humans. being lost, being crazy maybe is not so bad if you can be that way undisturbed. New Orleans gave me that. nobody ever called my name.

  Charles Bukowski

  Crazy, Moving, Wine

• my greatest problem was stamps, envelopes, paper and wine, with the world on the edge of World War II.

  Charles Bukowski

  War, Wine, World

  Charles Bukowski (2012). “The Pleasures of the Damned: Selected Poems 1951-1993”, p.364, Canongate Books

• I think a man can keep on drinking for centuries, he'll never die; especially wine or beer...I like drunkards, man, because drunkards, they come out of it, and they're sick and they spring back, they spring back and forth...If I hadn't been a drunkard, I probably would have committed suicide long ago.

  Charles Bukowski

  Suicide, Spring, Drinking

• I write right off the typer. I call it my "machinegun." I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine and listening to classical music on the radio and smoking mangalore ganesh beedies.

  Charles Bukowski

  Drinking, Writing, Wine

• Long before I became 'rich and famous' I just sat round drinking wine and staring at the walls.

  Charles Bukowski

  Wall, Drinking, Wine

• facebook
• twitter
• googleplus
• email
• linkedin

• facebook
• twitter
• googleplus
• email
• linkedin