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Charles Bukowski

in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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Autobiographical · Biographical · British Culture · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Correspondence · Epistolary · Excerpt · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Romanticism · Victorian

John Keats

My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be… Continue reading John Keats

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Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Correspondence · Excerpt · Lebanese Nationalis · Lebanese-American Culture · Passage · Poetry

Kahlil Gibran

Hearts united in pain and sorrow will not be separated by joy and happiness. Bonds that are woven in sadness are stronger than the ties of joy and pleasure. Love that is washed by tears will remain eternally pure and faithful. ― Kahlil Gibran, Love Letters in the Sand: The Love Poems of Kahlil Gibran.… Continue reading Kahlil Gibran

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Confessional · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fiction · Mystery · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Thriller

Charles Bukowski

If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery—isolation.… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Confessional · Contemporary · Poetry

Charles Bukowski

Whats the Use of a Title? They don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope what— ever… they rip their arms off, throw themselves out of windows, they pull their eyes out of the sockets, reject love reject hate reject, reject. they don’t make it the beautiful can’t endure, they… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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