"…BUT, CATLIKE, HE WOULD SUDDENLY REAPPEAR, AND DISARM ME WITH SOME DELMORE SCHWARTZ LINE ABOUT LOVE OR COURAGE"
"I didn't understand his erratic behavior or the intensity of his moods, which shifted, like his speech patterns, from speedy to laconic. But I understood his devotion to poetry and the transporting quality of his performances. He had black eyes, black T-shirt, pale skin. He was curious, sometimes suspicious, a voracious reader, and a sonic explorer. An obscure guitar pedal was for him another kind of poem. He was our connection to the infamous air of the Factory. He made Edie Sedgwick dance. Andy Warhol whispered in his ear. Lou brought the sensibilities of art and literature into his music. He was our generation's New York poet, championing its misfits as Whitman had championed its workingman and Lorca its persecuted".
Aqui, a íntegra do texto lindo de Patti Smith sobre Lou Reed na New Yorker.
E aqui, a carta escrita no The East Hampton Star, de Long Island, pela mulher dele, que assina assim:
his loving wife and eternal friend