Bukowski escreveu ao editor:

«Tenho duas hipóteses — ficar nos Correios e enlouquecer… ou ficar aqui a brincar aos escritores e morrer de fome. Decidi morrer de fome.» 

/a arte subtil de saber dizer que se f*da, Mark Manson/

Notes of a dirty old man

I've seen to many intellectuals lately. I get very tired of precious intellects who must speak diamonds every time they open their mouths.

I get tired of battling for each space of air for the mind. That's why I stayed away from people for so long, and now that I am meeting people, I find that I must return to my cave.

Notes of a dirty old man, Charles Bukowski

(visto aqui)