I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.
Charles BukowskiRead
… and we are in bed together laughing and we don’t care about anything.
Interpretation
This quote reflects a moment of intimacy and joy between two people who cherish each other's presence.
In this quote by Charles Bukowski, the focus is on the deep connection and carefree laughter shared between two lovers in an intimate setting. It emphasizes the beauty of small, shared moments that transcend the troubles of the outside world, highlighting the joy found in companionship and love.
In practice
This quote can be used in a wedding speech to highlight the joy of love.
I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.
when I am feeling low all i have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns
The masses are always wrong...Wisdom is doing everything the crowd does not do. All you do is reverse the totality of their learning and you have the heaven they're looking for.
I'm going to open another vottle. not a vottle, but a bottle. you open it and I'll drink it. and you try to write as much as I did without falling off of your chair.
To experience real agony is something hard to write about, impossible to understand while it grips you; you're frightened out of your wits, can’t sit still, move, or even go decently insane.
I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.
The first kiss is stolen by the man; the last is begged by the woman.
Didn't you know that people hide love like a flower too precious to be picked?
Antipathy, dissimilarity of views, hate, contempt, can accompany true love.
Later, her first intense, serious love affair, yes then she'd lost something more tangible, if undefinable: her heart? her independence? her control of, definition of, self? That first true loss, the furious bafflement of it. And never again quite so assured, confident.
All work is empty save when there is love.
Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.
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