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Le frasi più belle tratte dai libri letti

Il grande (poesie) – Bukowski

“America the beautiful
suddenly turned
ugly.
time after time,
in life after life,
in way after way,
some will
always be
classically
screwed.”

“I am aware that no man is
a great writer.
he may have been a
great writer,
but it’s a process which
begins again and over
again
and all the praise,
the cigars, the bottles of
wine sent in
honor
will not get the next
line down,
and that’s all that counts,
the past is
useless,
now is in the laps of
the gods
as the centuries fall
away
in their rotten
swift
luxury.”

“Minor and trivialcomplaints,
constantly aired,
might drive a saint mad,
let alone a common good
old boy (me)”

“don’t worry
hell will return,grown
stronger”

“let’s find something to do…but I know better, I know
that they don’t know any more than I do and they
are probably more scared, I had my fling
ripping at the walls, I used to stand and beat
my hands against the bricks until they bled and
I kept punching but the world stayed there
unlikeable, monstrous, deadly.”

“all our neighbors think that
we are
weird.
and we think that they
are.
and we’re all
on
target.”

“after this long fight
I have no intention of
quitting shorts.
or late.
or satisfied.”

“you have me
and the nuns and the monks have
God.”

“Outside the night is
past midnight.
inside, there is no
time.”

“the rivers of hell are mine, they aren’t yours
they’re mine, flowing hot and dirty and
endless
they’re mine, all mine,
special,
for me,
nobody else,
they’re mine
rushing me along,
night and day,
week after week, month after month,
year after year,
they’re mine,
you hear me?”

“if I can find one hour of peace a day
I can survive.”

“anything more than that would
wipe us
both
out”

“beware these who rally too often to
popular causes,
not because the cause is
necessarily wrong
but because their motive is
self-serving – the cause being
their cause.
those people who swarm to
the ringing of bells  and
speeches to the gatherings of
the righteously
indignant”

“but as a joung man I know that he (Dostoevsky)
got me throug the factories,
past the whores,
lifted me high through the night
and me put down
in a better
place.”

“safe lives hiding,
almost
stopped,
the breathing of
bodies and little
else.”

“something about me bothered
him:
white skin.
brother, that’s just the way it
is.”

“the sun is dead.
the day is dead,
the living are dead.
only hell lives
on.”

“the young are no help either,
they are shining mirrors without
reflection.”

“this is an excellent wine.
it connects me with infinity.
a man without wine is like a fish without
water,
a bird without wings.
wine runs in the blood of the tiger
and me.
death  is inferior
to this.
it can only win an obvious
victory.”

“pain seeks each individual
separately
and that’s where hell
begins
stays
festers
celebrate
its greatness.
now.”

“dinner soon
and the boxing matches on
tv,
later a bottle of
cabernet.
it’s so nice, this
road to
hell.”

“Sitting in this old chair, listening to Bach,
the music splashes across me, refreshing, delightful.
I need it, tonight I feel like a man who has come back
from the same old war, death in life,
as my guts say not again, not again, to have fought
so hard for what?
too often, the only escape is sleep.
Bach saves me, momentarily”

“I still have the walls, I still have my
death to do.
I am alone but not lonely.
we all expect more than there
is.”

“but doesn’t know
how nervously
and incompletely we
humans
sleep.
and live.”

“centuries don’t change men,
they only make them seem more
foolish.”

“how could they have done so
well
and then so
badly?”

“I am soon going
to die
but I feel no
remorse about
this.
Bach and I are
in this
room
together.
his music nows
lifts me beyond
pain
and my
pathetic
self-
interest.
Bach, thanks to you,
I have no
living
friends.”

“careful poetry
and careful
people
last
only long
enough
to
die
safely.”

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