morning night and noonthe traffic moves throughand the murder and treacheryof friends and loversand all the peoplemove through you. pain is the joy of knowingthe unkindest truththat arrives without warning. life is being alonedeath is being alone. even the fools weepmorning night and noon.
Charles BukowskiAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: August 16, 1920
- Died: March 9, 1994
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Llonio said life was a net for luck; to Hevydd the Smith life was a forge; and to Dwyvach the Weaver-Woman a loom. They spoke truly, for it is all of these. But you,' Taran said, his eyes meeting the potter's, 'you have shown me life is one thing more. It is clay to be shaped, as raw clay on a potter's wheel.
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