Charles Bukowski endures as a beloved poet, a champion-voice of the 99% long before they were called the 99%, and a curious creature of paradox, full of romantic pessimism and luminous wisdom on the meaning of life.

From his 1975 novel Factotum (public library) comes one of my favorite passages in literature, which lives beautifully outside its immediate context as a timeless and powerful manifesto for living wholeheartedly and living the life of purpose:

If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery — isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.