Bukowski | 40x50cm | Graphite on paper

If it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.

Unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it.


If you’re doing it for money or fame, don’t do it.


If you’re doing it because you want women in your bed,
 don’t do it.

If it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
 don’t do it.

If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, 
then wait patiently.

If it never does roar out of you,
 do something else.



Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, 

unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don’t do it.

Unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don’t do it.

When it is truly time,
 and if you have been chosen, It will do it by itself

and it will keep on doing it until you die 

or it dies in you.

There is no other way.



And there never was.

Charles Bukowski

Artprint available here

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People have to forgive. We don’t have to like them, we don’t have to be friends with them, we don’t have to send them hearts in text messages, but we have to forgive them, to overlook, to forget. Because if we don’t we are tying rocks to our feet, too much for our wings to carry!
—  C. JoyBell C.
I don’t understand dating.. and the other things that people do.. all I know is that you ought to find the one you recognize. The one who gives you four arms, four legs, four eyes, and has the other half of your heart. There’s only one of those, so what are all the other things for? Like dating?
—  C. JoyBell C.

A haiku from the article: Andrew M. Cuomo Tells His Story in ‘All Things Possible’

The Russian-born author Vladimir Nabokov in his suite at the Montreux Palace hotel in Switzerland, where he lived from 1961 until his death in 1977. Credit Horst Tappe/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

"A hotel room of one’s own might provide a little bout of perfection, disappearance and luxury amid the workaday madness that passes for our lives." Andrew O’Hagan

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