Life isn’t some vertical or horizontal line — you have your own interior world, and it’s not neat.
PATTI SMITHLife isn’t some vertical or horizontal line — you have your own interior world, and it’s not neat.
PATTI SMITHI understood that in this small space of time we had mutually surrendered our loneliness and replaced it with trust.
PATTI SMITHI’m from South Jersey: The idea of eating a roll with olive oil and anchovies or some kind of sardine and drinking mint tea definitely comes from reading Paul Bowles.
PATTI SMITHWell, I’m not one of those people who needs the limelight. If I’m performing, that’s what I’m doing. If I’m not, I don’t long for it. I don’t need the approval of an audience, or applause.
PATTI SMITHYou can’t work on that scale without trust. I learned that from working with Robert Mapplethorpe.
PATTI SMITHWhat a model of an artist was for me was an artist who worked. Picasso was the ultimate model, because the work ethic he had.
PATTI SMITHShould I pursue a path so twisted? Should I crawl defeated and gifted?
PATTI SMITHRemember, we are mortal, but poetry is not.
PATTI SMITHI started resenting how much art robs from life. I’d go to a party and I couldn’t enjoy myself, even sexually. All I could think was how I was going to reinvent the experience into a piece of art.
PATTI SMITHI refuse to believe that Hendrix had the last possessed hand, that Joplin had the last drunken throat, that Morrison had the last enlightened mind.
PATTI SMITHI’ve always had a desire to write something and capture people’s imagination like Peter Pan had captured mine.
PATTI SMITHTo be an artist – actually, to be a human being in these times – it’s all difficult. … What matters is to know what you want and pursue it.
PATTI SMITHI was quite an insomniac. I rarely slept as a child. Having God to talk to at night was nice.
PATTI SMITHAll I’ve ever wanted, since I was a child, was to do something wonderful.
PATTI SMITHDesire is hunger is the fire I breathe, love is a banquet on which we feed.
PATTI SMITHI got over the loss of his desk and chair, but never the desire to produce a string of words more precious than the emeralds of Cortés.
PATTI SMITH