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
Oh, I don’t mean you’re handsome, not the way people think of handsome. Your face seems kind. But your eyes - they’re beautiful. They’re wild, crazy, like some animal peering out of a forest on fire.
Interpretation
This quote expresses a deep appreciation for someone's unique beauty that goes beyond conventional standards, highlighting kindness and a wild spirit.
Charles Bukowski's quote encapsulates a profound perception of beauty that is not confined to traditional norms. It emphasizes the essence of a person's character, suggesting that true attractiveness lies in kindness and a passionate nature, illustrated by the vivid imagery of 'wild, crazy' eyes reminiscent of an untamed creature in a dramatic setting.
In practice
In a romantic dinner conversation to express your appreciation for your partner's unique beauty.
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.
There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.
Lovers embrace that which is between them rather than each other.
Holding this soft, small living creature in my lap this way, though, and seeing how it slept with complete trust in me, I felt a warm rush in my chest. I put my hand on the cat's chest and felt his heart beating. The pulse was faint and fast, but his heart, like mine, was ticking off the time allotted to his small body with all the restless earnestness of my own.
I will not live an instant that I do not live in love. Whoever loves does all things without suffering, or, suffering, loves his suffering.
But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,_x000D_ _x000D_ The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,_x000D_ _x000D_ To closer shades the panting flocks remove;_x000D_ _x000D_ Ye gods! And is there no relief for love?
Her heart was broken perhaps, but it was a small inexpensive organ of local manufacture. In a wider and grander way she felt things had been simplified.
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