What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire

by Charles Bukowski

it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.

true revolution comes from true revulsion; when things get bad enough the kitten will kill the lion.

“kid,” he said, “I’ve slept longer than you’ve lived.”

I just feel better and it’s good to feel better whenever you can not needing a reason.

things are so easily lost. things just can’t be kept forever.

the museum of pain doesn’t charge admission, it’s free as skunkshit.

the people walk and talk cut to pieces pieces of people sliced like pie knifed and forked and gulped away.

some lose all mind and become soul: insane. some lose all soul and become mind: intellectual. some lose both and become: accepted.

they’ve got us in the cage ruined of grace and senses and the heart roars like a lion at what they’ve done to us.

each night counts for something or else we’d all go mad.

“but I thought we were friends…” “you shouldn’t think. it’s harmful.”

I don’t like door-knockers. I never knock on any man’s door; I expect the same.”

“I’m glad you don’t like women who wear pantyhose…it de-cunts a woman…”

I have been treated better than I should have been— not by life in general nor by the machinery of things but by women.

they can heal with their touch they can kill what they touch and I am dying but not dead yet.

you can’t ignore the madmen. it has been tried too often.

the difference between a madman and a professional is that a pro does as well as he can within what he has set out to do and a madman does exceptionally well at what he can’t help doing.

paid the cashier whose teeth kept watching me.

as she now sings her old song to her new lover.

to create art means to be crazy alone forever.

precious grenades inside my skull, I’d rather grow roses than nurture self-pity,

is built

light bulbs, a red toy devil, a

we ask for no mercy and no miracles; (if only there were fewer flies around as we ponder our imbecilities and losses!)

even the young, especially the young for they have lost the beginning and have the rest of the way to go;

as for women, you didn’t know enough early enough and you knew enough too late. and if more self-analysis is allowed: it’s nice that you turned out well- honed, that you arrived late and remained generally capable. outside of that, not much to say except you can leave without regret.

you will ride life straight to perfect laughter, it’s the only good fight there is.