I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.
Charles BukowskiRead
I would certainly end up forever crying the blues into a coffee cup in a park for old men playing chess or silly games of some sort.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on feelings of loneliness and despair while observing the simplicity of life around us.
In this quote, Charles Bukowski expresses a sense of melancholy and disconnection that arises from observing the mundane activities of others. The imagery of crying into a coffee cup while watching old men play games symbolizes the author’s internal struggles and dissatisfaction with life, highlighting a contrast between the simplicity of the scene and the complexity of his emotional state.
Themes
LonelinessLifeObservationDespairGamesCoffee
In practice
Example use cases
During a poetry reading focused on the themes of isolation and observation.
More from Charles Bukowski
All quotes →when I am feeling low all i have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns
Charles BukowskiRead
The masses are always wrong...Wisdom is doing everything the crowd does not do. All you do is reverse the totality of their learning and you have the heaven they're looking for.
Charles BukowskiRead
I'm going to open another vottle. not a vottle, but a bottle. you open it and I'll drink it. and you try to write as much as I did without falling off of your chair.
Charles BukowskiRead
To experience real agony is something hard to write about, impossible to understand while it grips you; you're frightened out of your wits, can’t sit still, move, or even go decently insane.
Charles BukowskiRead
I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.
Charles BukowskiRead
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