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One day you think: I want to die. And then you think, very quietly, actually I want a coffee. I want a nap. A sandwich. A book. And I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friends, I want to sit in the sun. I want a cleaner room, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else, I want to live.

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dailyrothko

Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1949 oil on canvas 43 5/8 x 35 5/8 x 1 1/8 in.

Collection Kate Rothko Prizel Catalogue Raisonne Number: 376

© Kate Rothko Prizel & Christopher Rothko Artists Rights Society, New York

Donate / Join mailing list by writing to dailyrothko@gmail.com

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soundsof71

Patti Smith, 1976, by Lynn Goldsmith. 

“I don’t consider writing a quiet, closet act: I consider it a real physical act. When I’m home writing on a typewriter, I go crazy. I move like a monkey. I’ve wet myself. I’ve come in my pants writing….Instead of shooting smack, I masturbate – fourteen times in a row…I start seeing Aztec mountains…I see weird things. I see temples, underground temples, with the doors opening, sliding door after sliding door, Pharaoh revealed – this bound-up Pharaoh with ropes of gold. That’s how I write a lot of my poetry.”

~ Patti Smith in 1971, from Patti Smith: An Unauthorized Biography, by Victor Bockris and Roberta Bayley 

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