Elliott Smith Quotes

He kisses like Elliott Smith sings.

. . . 'Depressing' isn't a word I would use to describe my music. But there is some sadness in it -- there has to be, so that the happiness in it will matter.

I know sometimes tragic or humiliating events propel you into a better life, I've experienced that for sure, but it still hurts. It still burns. I think sometimes it hurts more because you can't wish it had never happened. It improved your life in the long run.

Playing things too safe is the most popular way to fail. Dying is another way...

i'm never gonna know you now, but i'm gonna love you anyhow

You can't get better at things you never play.

What I used to be will pass away and then you'll see That all I want now is happiness for you and me

Everybody gets a tag. If you listen to a Velvet Underground record, you don't think, 'Godfathers of Punk.' You just think, 'This sounds great.' The tags are there in order to help try to sell something by giving it a name that's going to stick in somebody's memory. But it doesn't describe it. So 'depressing' isn't a word I would use to describe my music. But there is some sadness in it -- there has to be, so that the happiness in it will matter.

Why would you want any other, when you’re a world within a world?

Tired of dancing on a pot of gold flake paint

It's ok, it's alright, nothing's wrong tell Mr. man with impossible plans to just leave me alone in the place where I make no mistakes in the place where I have what it takes

I was driving with Arrow the other day, and from the back seat she said, 'I wish we moved into that house we were going to move into.' A house we didn't move into because it was my boyfriend's house and we broke up. I said, 'I'm sorry honey. Why do you wish we'd moved in there?' And she said, 'Because if we moved in there, we'd find all the things we thought that we had lost.

I'm not leaving, bub. Because you're going to wallow. You're going to put on that playlist. What's it called?' 'The Great Depression,' I mutter. It's all Elliott Smith and Nick Drake and the Smiths. I already have it cued up.

I didn't have a hard time making it. I had a hard time letting it go.

noted Philby’s unique sartorial swagger: “The old Secret Service professionals were given to spats and monocles long after they passed out of fashion,” but the new intake of officers could be seen “slouching about in sweaters and gray flannel trousers, drinking in bars and cafés and low dives … boasting of their underworld acquaintances and liaisons. Philby may be taken as a prototype and was indeed, in the eyes of many of them, a model to be copied.” Elliott began to dress like Philby. He even bought the same expensive umbrella from James Smith & Sons of Oxford Street, an umbrella that befitted an establishment man of the world, but one with panache.

And what the music elicits—in me, in most everyone who hears it and takes to it—is a strangely comforting, sensual melancholy, a gentle sadness, the kind that comes with soft rain. It’s the same for all truly great dark art. There’s a pleasure in seeing our shadows paraded beautifully. It’s liberating to find them so prettily decked out, a sort of reverse Halloween.

Twilight" Haven't laughed this hard in a long time I better stop now before I start crying Go off to sleep in the sunshine I don't want to see the day when it's dying She's a sight to see She's good to me But I'm already somebody's baby She's a pretty thing And she knows everything But I'm already somebody's baby You don't deserve to be lonely But those drugs you've got won't make you feel better Pretty soon you'll find it's the only Little part of your life you're keeping together I'm nice to you I could make it through But you're already somebody's baby I could make you smile If you stayed a while But how long will you stay with me, baby? Because your candle burns too bright Well I almost forgot it was twilight Even if I think that you are right Well I'm tired of being down, I got no fight You're wonderful And it's beautiful But I'm already somebody's baby And if I went with you I'd disappoint you too Well I'm already somebody's baby Already somebody's baby

He kisses like Elliott Smith sings.

By now it is a ready-made cliché—the rock star dying young, whether by excess, by accident, or by suicide. For some, it’s part of the act, macabre performance art, a final song. This last mode, suicide, can be elusive. In fact, it almost always is. It might masquerade as excess—reckless, immoderate drug use. There is subintentioned suicide too. The person may simultaneously wish to live and die. No special effort is made to stay alive, but none is made to keep living, either outcome perfectly acceptable.

Elliott was disarmingly bright, according to everyone who knew him, an avid reader of Dostoevsky, Kafka, Beckett, Stendhal, Freud, the Buddha, all of whom destabilized notions of identity. I think he knew how little we know about who we are. The idea comes through in lyrics. “I don’t know who I am,” he says simply; at times he wishes he were no one. He’s a stickman shooting blanks at emptiness, living with “one dimension dead.” He’s an invisible man with a see-through mind. He’s a junkyard full of false starts. He’s a ghost-writer, feeling hollow.

I didn't have a hard time making it, I had a hard time letting it go.

And she absolutely, desperately, wanted to tell her sister about the mind-blowing way he touched her, how intoxicating his kisses were and how one erotic encounter with the Ghost made her realize that maybe she wasn’t broken after all. The complete opposite of how Elliott had made her feel during their brief affair.

This is not my life. It's just a fond farewell to a friend.

In The Lost And Found (Honky Bach)" He held his breath to hold your hand To walk the stairsteps in pairs Climbing up a slippery slope I'm in love, love I hope Don't go home Angelina Stay with me, hanging around in the lost and found He kissed you quick, feeling weird Lonely leered, and disappeared This is such a simple place The passing time can't erase Don't go home Angelina Paint tomorrow blue Day breaks But every morning when he wakes he thinks of you I'm alone, but that's okay I don't mind most of the time I don't feel afraid to die She was here, passing by Don't go home Angelina Stay with me, hanging around in the lost and found Stay with me, hanging around in the lost and found

They say that God makes problems Just to see what you can stand Before you do as the devil pleases Give up the thing you love

Once he gave her a Rothko book—an interesting choice, since like Elliott, Rothko also attended Lincoln High School in Portland (as had poet Gary Snyder and Simpsons creator Matt Groening). The

Historical writing about the American West has undergone dramatic changes in the past half century and more. Specifically, historians have moved away from the frontier thesis of Frederick Jackson Turner and turned in new directions: earlier authors such as Henry Nash Smith and Earl Pomeroy helped us understand how the mythic West and western imitations of European and eastern American traditions shaped the history of the region.

The 5 types of reading are categorized into: Skimming. Scanning. Light Reading. Word by word Reading. Reading to study.