Itโs not so much that nothing means anything but more that it keeps meaning nothing. thereโs no release, just gurus and self- appointed gods and hucksters. the more people say, the less there is to say. even the best books are dry sawdust.
Charles BukowskiI loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
Charles BukowskiI met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train ran down along the coast we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, itโs not pretty.
Charles Bukowski