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
but as God said, crossing his legs, I see where I have made plenty of poets but not so very much poetry.
Interpretation
What this quote means
Bukowski highlights the difference between the act of creation and the quality of the created work.
This quote suggests that while many individuals may have the ability to write or create art ('plenty of poets'), the actual depth and value of their creations ('not so very much poetry') is often lacking. Bukowski, with a tone that implies introspection, seems to reflect on the divine perspective of artistic endeavors, suggesting that sheer quantity of creation does not guarantee meaningful or impactful art.
Themes
ArtPoetryCreationMeaningQuality
In practice
Example use cases
Include this quote in an art critique to emphasize the importance of quality over quantity.
More from Charles Bukowski
All quotes βwhen 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, canβt 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 donβt 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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