My songs are personal music, they're not communal. I wouldn't want people singing along with me. It would sound funny. I'm not playing campfire meetings. I don't remember anyone singing along with Elvis, Carl Perkins or Little Richard.

She never stumbles, she's got no place to fall. She's nobody's child, the law can't touch her at all.

So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away, to the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong.

Night can swallow you up, yet none of it touches you. Around any corner, there's a promise of something daring and ideal and things are just getting going. There's something obscenely joyful behind every door, either that or somebody crying with their head in in their hands. A lazy rhythm looms in the dreamy air and the atmosphere pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can't see it, but you know it's there

I feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet, putting her in a wheel-barrow and wheeling her down the street.

I never read Freud. I've never been attracted to anything he has said, and I think he's started a lot of nonsense with psychiatry and that business. I don't think psychiatry can help or has helped anybody. I think it's a big fraud (pun not intended) on the public.

Come Senators, Congressman, please heed the call, don't stand in the doorway, don't block the hall.