Mountain Wildflowers

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of cannoli.

My dear,

Find what you love and let it kill you.

Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness…. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.

For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.

Falsely yours—

—   Henry Charles Bukowski
  • 5 April 2013
  • 176