A Quote by Charles Bukowski

When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat. — © Charles Bukowski
When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.
I couldn't get myself to read the want ads. The thought of sitting in front of a man behind a desk and telling him that I wanted a job, that I was qualified for a job, was too much for me. Frankly, I was horrified by life, at what a man had to do simply in order to eat, sleep, and keep himself clothed. So I stayed in bed and drank. When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat.
There is an Indian fable of three beings who drank from a river: one was a god, and he drank ambrosia; one was a man, and he drank water; and one was a demon, and he drank filth. What you get is a function of your own consciousness.
I drank to be funny, or sexy. I drank because I was afraid or happy or sad, and I drank for anything that required emotional commitment. ... I had chosen a profession that thrives on insecurity, and is never far from some source of social intercourse that involves alcohol or drugs.
I don't care if you got knocked up. I can still rip your throat out
Still. Smokers out there, you know what I'm talking about. That moment, after you've had a huge meal, say at Thanksgiving, when you step outside in the cold, light up a cigarette and take a deep inhale ... that's about the best moment in the world, you know? All the smokers out there, you know that feeling. Sometimes, smoking is fantastic.
For a moment, or a second, the pinched expressions of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we've all had to become disappears, when we're confronted with something as simple as a plate of food.
I still remember the first time I stepped out on the pitch at the Bernabeu. It was a spectacular moment - from another world.
To say I drank my way into marriage isn't much of an exaggeration, and it's none at all to say I drank my way out of it.
It took a lot of water to down just that f-king bat's head, let me tell you. It's still stuck in my f-king throat, after all these years. People all over the world say, 'You're the guy who kills creatures? You still do it? You do it every night?' It happened f-king once, for Christ's sake.
The worst moment was when I was performing and I was about to sing, but I choked. I had a tickle in my throat and I started coughing, and I couldn't get the words out. It lasted for like thirty seconds, but I got over it, and luckily the crowd didn't seem to care.
I use throat sprays on stage, but most of the throat sprays I was using had alcohol or other carcinogens in them, stuff I wanted to keep away from myself. So I started making a recipe for my own throat spray that was more of a natural approach to everything.
I don't think I've entirely had that moment yet! There's still so much more to be done. Professionally I am so grateful to step out into the television world with the remarkable opportunity of being on Empire.
Thirstily he set it to his lips, and as its cool refreshment began to soothe his throat, he thanked Heaven that in a world of much evil there was still so good a thing as ale.
Later when I thought of the chickens, one of those rare pale blue eggs rose up into my throat. The chickens had been part of our family, and the egg in my throat was the feeling of something missing. It was hard and smooth and heavy, but also so fragile it might break and make me cry. It was the feeling of growing out of a favorite shirt, milk spilled on the floor, the last bit of honey in the jar, falling apple blossoms. It was the lump in the throat behind everything beautiful in life.
The world is quieter now. It is never quiet, but it can get quieter. What strange creatures we are, to find silence peaceful, when permanent silence is the thing we most dread. Nighttime is not that. Nighttime still rustles, still creaks and whispers and trembles in its throat. It is not darkness we fear, but our own helplessness within it. How merciful to have been granted the other senses.
Holding still for a moment, what a moment this is, Oh for a moment of forgetting, a moment of bliss
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!