Quotes from Patti Smith

I would later make large detailed drawings of these humorously humiliating moments for Robert. He delighted in them, seeming to appreciate all the qualities that repelled or alienated me from others. Through this visual dialogue my youthful memories became his. I

that without a doubt we sometimes eclipse our own dreams with reality

In times of strife, we have our imagination, we have our creative impulse, which are things that are more important than material things. They are the things that we should magnify.

This open atmosphere was something I had not experienced, simple freedom that did not seem to be oppressive to anyone.

My mother, who was a waitress, gave me white wedgies and a fresh uniform in a plain wrapper. "You'll never make it as a waitress," she said, "but I'll stake you anyway." It was her way of showing her support.

I wrote some notes on paper napkins for my forthcoming talk, then sat daydreaming about the angels in Wings of Desire . How wonderful it would be to meet an angel, I mused, but then immediately realized I already had. Not an archangel like Saint Michel, but my human angel from Detroit, wearing an overcoat and no hat, with lank brown hair and eyes the color of water.

I longed to enter the fraternity of the artist: the hunger, their manner of dress, their process and prayers. I'd brag that I was going to be an artist's mistress one day. Nothing seemed more romantic to my young mind. I imagined myself as Frida to Diego, both muse and maker.

Herkes ölür," demi?ti yava? yava? güçlerini kaybeden ellerine bakarak. "Fakat ben bunun böyle olaca??n? önceden tahmin edememi?tim i?te. Ama sorun de?il. Hayat?m? istedi?im gibi ya?ad?m.

I can only hope, as I offer my world on a platter filled with allusions.

Coloring excited him, not the act of filling in space, but choosing colors that no one else would select. In the green of the hills he saw red. Purple snow, green skin, silver sun. He liked the effect it had on others, that it disturbed his siblings.

A few hours later, she was back. As she slipped off her slingback heels and rubbed her ankles, she said, "Boy, when he says, 'Come up and see my etchings,' he means 'Come up and see my etchings.

I can only thank, as I have within myself many times through the years, this unknown benefactor. She was the one who gave me the last piece of encouragement, a thief's good-luck sign.

But the urge to express myself was my strongest desire, and my siblings were my first eager coconspirators in the harvesting of my imagination

We all have a song. A song comes spontaneously, expressing joy, loneliness, to dispel fear or exhibit a small triumph. We hardly notice we are forming them, as we sing them, often alone, half to ourselves. It is finding the words within that leads us to sing. It might be a hymn, a shard of rebellion, or a teenage prayer.

Trials of a person I didn't know lost in a labyrinth of aisles formed by the immense filing cabinets of Brazil - the movie, not the country.

Remember we are mortal but poetry is not.

It's our decade, he said.

The merry-go-round was slowing down.