Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you’re allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It’s like killing yourself, and then you’re reborn. I guess I’ve lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.
Source:Paying for Horses: An Interview with Charles Bukowski by Robert Wennersten, London Magazin (December 1974-Janurary 1975); in Sunlight Here I Am: Interviews and Encounters 1963-1993(Sun Dog Press, ed. 2003), Page 98
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