“An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.” Charles Bukowski
“There are too many ways to drown even if you don’t want to drown.” Charles Bukowski
“Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?” Charles Bukowski
“Days like this, like your day today. Maybe the rain on the window trying to get through to you. What do you see today? What is it? Where are you? The best days are sometimes the first, sometimes the middle and even sometimes the last.” Charles Bukowski, Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame
“I see a bright portion under the overhead light that shades into darkness and then into darker darkness and I can’t see beyond that.” Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
“The courage it took to get out of bed each morning to face the same things over and over was enormous.” Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
Euphorbia myrsinites, also known as myrtle Euphorbia or donkeytail spurge, is one of the most useful and highly ornamental plants to grow in the garden.
Now for the bad news: the milky white sap has been known to cause extreme allergic reactions that in some cases can lead to anaphylactic shock, and visits to the emergency room are frequently reported.
Charles Bukowski wrote a book called The People Look Like Flowers At Last (see last post). This one looks like the pretty college girl next door who works as an escort on weekends. Approach both with caution and use protection.
Charles Bukowski wrote a book called the people look like flowers at last, but today it seemed that the flowers look like people at last. Maybe it’s me, but if you look closely at these beautiful little flowers, the one of the right looks like Kim Kardashian wearing a white skirt.
The flower on the left may look like one of her sisters, but the last thing I need is a Kardashian tweeting that I’m body/flower shaming. I’m just trying to keep up with the flora.
“We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed, and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting.” Charles Bukowski
“It will rain all this night and we will sleep transfixed by the dark water as our blood runs through our fragile life.” Charles Bukowski