"Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul."
"I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn't improve art. It only hindered it. A man's soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak and drinking a pint of whiskey than he could ever write after eating a nickel candy bar. The myth of the starving artist was a hoax."
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Source: Factotum. Book by Charles Bukowski, Ch. 29, 1975.
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