A Quote by Charles Bukowski

there are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails. — © Charles Bukowski
there are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails.
That moment - to this ... may be years in the way they measure, but it's only one sentence back in my mind - there are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails. I pass the hotel at 8 and at 5; there are cats in the alleys and bottles and bums, and I look up at the window and think, I no longer know where you are, and I walk on and wonder where the living goes when it stops.
We are identified with the ego, and with the ego there are many things: anger and hatred and jealousy and possessiveness and greed - the whole train. The ego functions like an engine and there are many many compartments following it. Once the ego dies the whole train stops.
Listening stops with the ears, the mind stops with recognition, but spirit is empty and waits on all things.
A song without a hook is like a train without rails. It skitters all over the place, bangs into everything. Boom! Crash! There goes Grand Central Station. Crushed by a train.
In this respect early youth is exactly like old age; it is a time of waiting for a big trip to an unknown destination. The chief difference is that youth waits for the morning limited and age waits for the night train
In this respect early youth is exactly like old age; it is a time of waiting for a big trip to an unknown destination. The chief difference is that youth waits for the morning limited and age waits for the night train.
There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.
Resentment is like a glass of poison that a man drinks; then he sits down and waits for his enemy to die.
The clock never stops, never stops, never waits. We're growing old. It's getting late.
We're going off the rails on a crazy train.
And there is the headlight, shining far down the track, glinting off the steel rails that, like all parallel lines, will meet in infinity, which is after all where this train is going.
On a windswept hill by a billowing sea, my destiny sits and waits for me.
After hours, I would train, train, train, six or seven days a week, until 2 or 3 in the morning sometimes.
Shaw is like a train. One just speaks the words and sits in one's place. But Shakespeare is like bathing in the sea - one swims where one wants.
When I worked as a newspaper photo engraver in the only job I ever had, many years ago, I'd get the train home to Pukerua Bay where I was staying with my parents. An hour ride, 16 stops, and almost always, I'd have automatic wake-up, seconds before we pulled into my station.
If you've ever experienced being in an Indian train station as the train pulls in, even as a six-foot adult, it's incredibly scary. You just have people storming at you, bumping around you, without any regard to your safety.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!