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“Having a bunch of cats around is good. If you're feeling bad, just look at the cats, you'll feel better, because they know that everything is, just as it is.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“Cats tell me without effort all that there is to know.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“The more cats you have, the longer you live. If you have a hundred cats, you’ll live ten times longer than if you have ten. Someday this will be discovered, and people will have a thousand cats and live forever.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“about
our argument tonight
whatever it was
about
and
no matter
how unhappy
it made us
feel

remember that
there is a
cat
somewhere
adjusting to the
space of itself
with a delightful
wonderment of
easiness.

in other words
magic persists
without us
no matter what
we do
against it.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“The cat is the beautiful devil.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“Animals are inspirational. They don’t know how to lie. They are natural forces.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“I don’t like love as a command, as a search. It must come to you, like a hungry cat at the door.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“when I am feeling low all I have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns.         I study these creatures.         they are my teachers.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“A cat is only itself.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“TV can make me ill in five minutes, but I can look at an animal for hours and find nothing but grace and glory, life as it should be.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“warm light alone tonight in this house, alone with 6 cats who tell me without effort all that there is to know.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“I walked up the driveway. The cats were sprawled about, pooped. In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass. Humans are too miserable and angry and single-minded.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“And a cat never knows fear—finally—he only winds up into the spring of the sea and the rock, and even in a death-fight he does not think of anything except the majesty of darkness.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“Writing is also my cat. Writing lets me face it.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“the strays keep arriving: now we have 5 cats and they are tenuous, flighty, con- ceited, naturally bright and awesomely beautiful.         one”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“his is the last poem of any number of poems
tonight, there’s
one drink of wine left
and both of those guys
they are asleep across the top of my feet.
I can feel the gentle weight of them
the touch of fur
I am aware of their breathing:
good things happen often, remember that
as the Bombs trundle out in their magnificent
dumbness
these
at my feet
know more,
are
more,
and instants of the moments explode
larger
and a lucky past
can never be
killed.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“My Cats

I know. I know.
they are limited, have different
needs and
concerns.

but I watch and learn from them.
I like the little they know,
which is so
much.

they complain but never
worry,
they walk with a surprising dignity.
they sleep with a direct simplicity that
humans just can’t
understand.

their eyes are more
beautiful than our eyes.

and they can sleep 20 hours
a day
without
hesitation or
remorse.

when I am feeling
low
all I have to do is
watch my cats
and my
courage
returns.

I study these
creatures.
they are my
teachers.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“my god," they will say, "all Chinaski writes about
are cats!"
"my god," they used to say, "all Chinaski writes about
are whores!"
the complainers will complain and keep buying my
books: they love the way I irritate them.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“I view his furry storage tanks â€� what can a man think about while looking at a cat’s nuts? Certainly not the sunken navies of great sea battles.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“I
dislike cute cat
poems
but I've written one
anyhow.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“things begin to lose their
natural value
as they near
human
endeavor.

nothing against
Beethoven:

he did fine
for what he
was

but I wouldn't want
him
on my rug
with one leg
over his head
while
he was
licking
his balls.”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats

“Writing lets me face it. It chills me out. For a while anyhow. Then my wires get crossed and I have to do it all over again. I can't understand writers who decide to stop writing. How do they chill out?”
― Charles Bukowski, On Cats